LIBRARY  •■^f^pP'^'CrJ'^-. 


THEOLOGICAL  S^^^'N^^^a 


PREACHING  CHRIST. 


SERMONS 


BY  THE 


Rev.  Llewelyn  Ioan  Evans,  D.D.,LL.D. 

Twenty-Nine  Years  Professor  in  Lane  Seminary. 


With  a  Sketch  of  His  Life 

BY 

HENRY  PRESERVED  SMITH,  D.D. 


New  York : 

THE  CHRISTIAN  LITERATURE  CO. 

1893. 


Copyright,  1893,  ^^ 
The  Christian  Literature  Co. 


TO 

RAY   LLEWELYN   EVANS 

THESE    MEMORIALS    OF    HIS    HONORED,    BELOVED    AND 
SAINTED    FATHER    ARE    AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED. 

S.    E.   E. 


CONTENTS. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I.   Early  Years i 

II.  Theology  and  Preaching 17 

III.  Exegesis 31 

IV.  Home  and  Social  Life 44 

V.   Closing  Years 52 

Note 68 

SERMONS. 

I.  Faith,  Hope,  Love  ....^.'. 69 

II.  Strength 88 

III.  Completeness 105 

IV.  Cheerfulness  in  Giving 119 

V.  The  New  Commandment 133 

VI.   Living  Water 148 

VII,  Forgetting  the  Things  which  are  Behind 164 

VIII.  The  Disciples'  Ambit"on 177 

IX.  The  Christian's  Debt 202 

X.   Endurance 221 

XI.  A  Thanksgiving  Serm.on 237 

XIL  The  Tests  of  Christianity 268 

XIIL  Not  Rich  Toward  God 290 

XIV.   Prayer 307 

XV.   Christ  Revealing  the  Father 324 

XVL  The  Youth  of  Christ 340 

XVII.   Bearing  Each  Other's  Burdens 350 

Preaching  Christ 365 


PREFACE. 


At  my  request,  Dr.  Henry  Preserved  Smith  has  prepared 
this  sketch  of  my  husband's  life,  and  arranged  the  sermons 
for  the  press.  There  was  especial  fitness  in  this,  because 
Dr.  Smith  was  for  three  years  the  pupil  of  Dr.  Evans,  and 
the  tie  which  binds  the  earnest  student  to  the  inspiring 
instructor  early  became  very  strong.  The  friendship  thus 
begun,  was  strengthened  by  nineteen  years  of  affectionate 
intercourse  as  members  of  the  same  Faculty  of  instruction. 
Their  kindred  pursuits — both  being  students  of  the  Scrip- 
tures— drew  them  more  nearly  together,  and  in  their  studies 
they  developed  similar  views  on  the  points  of  theology,  so 
much  debated  in  late  years.  They  stood  side  by  side  in 
defending  the  rights  of  scholarly  investigation  of  the  Book 
they  both  loved,  and  their  common  experiences  at  this  time 
made  them  esteem  each  other  all  the  more,  and  increased 
their  affection  as  it  increased  their  intimacy.  I  wish  here  to 
express  my  thanks  to  Dr.  Smith  for  the  manner  in  which  he 
has  discharged  his  sacred  duty,  and  to  those  who  assisted 
him  in  the  preparation  of  the  volume. 

In  accordance  with  my  desire,  the  sermons  are  reproduced 
just  as  they  were  delivered,  and  as  they  are  contained  in  the 
manuscripts.  Had  my  husband  lived  to  see  them  through 
the  press,  he  might  have  made  changes  or  corrections.  This 
fact  should  be  borne  in  mind  in  case  any  reader  discovers 
what  seems  to  him  faulty  in  arrangement  or  punctuation. 

SARAH  E.    EVANS. 
August  24,  1893. 


LLEWELYN  lOAN  EVANS. 


I. 

EARLY   YEARS. 


Dr.  Evans  was  the  son  of  the  Rev.  Edward  T.  Evans, 
and  was  born  at  Treuddyn,  near  Mold,  North  Wales, 
June  27,  1833.  His  mother,  Mary  E.  Roberts,  was  a 
daughter  of  the  Rev.  Robert  Roberts,  a  prominent 
minister  in  the  Welsh  Calvinistic  Methodist  Church. 
His  paternal  grandfather,  Mr.  Thomas  Evans,  was  a 
prominent  elder  in  the  same  denomination.  The  fol- 
lowing notices  are  translated  from  the  Welsh  biogra- 
phy of  the  celebrated  minister,  the  Rev.  John  Jones.* 
It  should  be  premised  that  the  period  was  one  of  great 
agitation  in  the  denomination.  The  adoption  of  a  Con- 
fession of  Faith  was  warmly  discussed.  The  older  min- 
isters and  elders  were  High  Calvinists  and  endeavored 
to  bring  the  more  moderate  party  into  subjection  by 
discipline.  The  Rev,  Robert  Roberts  and  Mr.  Thomas 
Evans  were  of  the  liberal  party.  On  account  of  their 
expressed  opposition  to  the  measures  of  the  majority 
both  were  called  to  account  in  Presbytery  and  Synod. 
The  investigation  ended  in  their  favor  and  their  vindi- 


*  I  owe  these  notices  to  the  kindness  of  the  Rev.  E.  C.  Evans, 
of  Remsen,  N.  Y.,  by  whom  the  translation  is  made. 

(O 


2  LLEWELYN   lOAN    EVANS. 

cation  led  to  a  more  liberal  policy  in  the  denomination 
at  large. 

"This  preaching  tour  [of  the  Rev.  John  Jones]  proved 
to  be  an  important  event  in  his  life.  For  it  was  on  this 
tour  that  he  met  for  the  first  time  personally  the  Rev. 
Robc}i,  Roberts  of  Tan-y-clawdd,  the  Rev.  John  Hughes 
of  Liverpool,  and  Mr.  Fhovias  Evajis,  Macs-y-coed, 
Caerwyss,  who,  from  thig  time,  became  his  most  inti- 
mate friends  and  so  continued  to  the  close  of  his  life. 
These  gentlemen  exerted  a  great  influence  on  his  views 
of  Gospel  truth.  They  differed  greatly  from  each  other 
in  mental  characteristics  as  in  natural  disposition,  but 
they  were  intimate  friends  and  they  were  in  accord  in 
holding  more  liberal  views  of  the  plan  of  redemption 
than  many  of  their  brethren.  This  was  distinctly  true 
with  reference  to  some  in  their  own  presbytery,  and 
hence  the  three  were  regarded  by  many  as  not  being 
'sound  in  doctrine.' 

"The  Rev.  Robert  Roberts  was  a  man  of  great  men- 
tal ability,  an  excellent  Welsh  scholar,  and  remarkably 
well  versed  in  Celtic  archaeology.  He  v/as  of  a  philo- 
sophical turn  of  mind,  delighting  in  metaphysical  in- 
quiries, and  too  ready,  perhaps,  to  bring  such  questions 
into  the  pulpit  as  well  as  into  conversation  with  people 
not  conversant  with  such  themes.  He  had  studied  care- 
fully the  writings  of  Jonathan  Edwards  in  the  edition 
containing  the  notes  of  Dr.  Williams.  He  had  mastered 
thoroughly  the  works  of  Dr.  Williams  himself.  For  a 
considerable  part  of  his  life  he  was  a  faithful  disciple 
of  Dr.  Williams,  fully  adopting  his  views.  Not  satis- 
fied with  this,  he  went  so  far  as  to  believe  them  not 
only  to  be  of  the  greatest  importance  but  to  be  the 
only  secure  ground  from  which  to  oppose  Arminianism. 
In  his  later  years,  however,  he  had  come  to  regard  with 
doubt  some  of  these  views.  He  doubted  in  particular 
whether  Dr.  Williams  assigned  the  Gospel  and  the 
Word  their  proper  and  important  place  as  the  means 
of  regeneration.  Still  he  held  to  the  truth  of  Calvin- 
ism. But  while  strongly  opposed  to  Arminianism  on 
one  hand,  he  was  uncompromisingly  against  High  Cal- 


EARLY    YEARS.  3 

vinism  on  the  other,  observing  frequently  that  these 
two  agreed  in  shifting  man's  obHgation  and  responsi- 
biHty  from  their  true  and  proper  place,  making  them 
rest  on  God's  grace.  He  met  High  Calvinists  more 
frequently  than  Arminians,  and  hence  came  oftener 
into  collision  with  them — though  equally  opposed  to 
both.  Possibly  he  was  not  always  happy  in  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  expressed  and  defended  his  views.  As 
one  friend  said  of  him  :  in  one  sermon  he  would  appear 
more  Calvinistic  than  others,  while  in  the  next,  per- 
haps, his  views  would  seem  to  border  on  Arminianism. 

' '  Mr.  Roberts  was  acknowledged  by  all  who  knew 
him  to  be  a  very  godly  man — an  unusually  godly  man. 
In  his  last  years  he  grew  more  tender  and  sympathetic 
in  his  feelings  and  in  affection  for  his  brethren,  coming 
to  be  regarded  by  them  in  turn  with  reverence  and  af- 
fection. He  died  August  14,  1849,  ^^  the  age  of  75 
years,  having  preached  the  Gospel  forty-nine  years. 

"The  other  friend  referred  to  was  Mr.  Thomas  Evans. 
He  was  not  a  minister  but  an  elder  at  Caerwyss,  serving 
efficiently  and  faithfully  for  a  long  term  of  years.  His 
personal  piety,  his  extensive  and  thorough  knowledge 
of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  especially  his  extraordinary 
gift  of  religious  discourse  and  devotional  expression, 
rendered  his  services  exceedingly  valuable  to  the  church. 
Being  regarded  in  every  circle  of  society  in  which  he 
moved  as  one  of  the  wisest,  keenest,  and  godliest  of 
men,  he  attained  to  great  influence  in  the  Presbytery  to 
which  he  belonged,  and  also  in  the  General  Synod.  In 
acquaintance  with  the  theological  writers  of  the  period 
(Edwards,  Bellamy,  Dwight,  Williams,  Fuller,  and 
others)  hardly  one  among  the  old  ministers  was  equal 
to  him,  certainly  not  one  surpassed  him.  He  entered 
upon  this  line  of  study  when  about  eighteen  years  of 
age  and  pursued  it  steadily  and  faithfully  for  over  sixty 
years.  Yet  he  bound  himself  slavishly  to  no  author. 
He  tested  all  he  read  by  the  standard  of  the  Holy 
Word,  and  felt  free  to  take  exception  to  his  favorite 
authors  if  he  thought  they  had  forsaken  the  teaching 
of  the  Word  of  God.  'A  certain  brother  told  me  (he 
said  once)  that  the  Wesleyan  Confession  of  Faith    is: 


4  LLEWEYLN    lOAN    EVANS. 

*  Every  tvord   that   proceedetJt  from    the   mouth  of  John 
Wesley ;  but  I  would  rather  have  no  system  at  all  than 

one  in  which  there  is  no  room  for  every  word  that 
proceedeth  from  the  mouth  of  God.'  Because  of  his 
broad  views  and  fidelity  to  the  truth,  he  frequently  ex- 
ercised great  influence  in  behalf  of  his  friends." 

Thomas  Evans  published  late  in  life  a  small  volume 
on  theology,  a  summary  of  Christian  doctrine  for  lay- 
men. In  this  he  alludes  to  the  theological  strifes 
through  which  he  had  passed.  He  says  that  the  zeal 
of  the  Calvinistic  party  against  Arminianism  led  in 
many  minds  to  hyper-calvinism,  even  to  antinomianism. 
The  mercy  of  God,  however,  had  raised  up  ministers 
who  were  able  to  preach  the  unrestricted  fullness  of  the 
Gospel.  "Some  of  us  (he  adds)  had  the  honor  of 
suffering  a  little  for  about  twenty  years  on  account  of 
our  comprehensive  opinions  on  the  doctrine  of  the 
Atonement,  and  that  from  some  brethren  who  were 
very  dear  to  us.  And  the  reason  we  v/ere  so  patient 
was  that  v/e  believed  they  were  acting  conscientiously 
according  to  their  light,  and  that  their  zeal  was  in  ad- 
vance of  their  knowledge."  He  then  gives  an  account 
of  his  own  efforts  to  get  at  the  truth.  This  is  in  the 
introduction  to  his  little  treatise  which  is  entitled 
"Theological  Meditations,  or  Remarks  on  the  Con- 
sistency of  the  Doctrine  of  the  Gospel."  The  order  of 
the  chapters  is  that  ordinarily  followed  in  treatises  in 
divinity,  but  the  fact  that  its  interest  is  practical  rather 
than  speculative,  is  seen  especially  in  the  last  chapter, 
which  is  an  appeal  to  the  unconverted. 

An  extract  *  in  Prof.  Evans'  own  handwriting  from  a 
Welsh  work  on  Methodism  in  Wales,  gives  some  further 
account  of  his  grandfather  Roberts,      From  it  we  learn 

*  Kindly  translated  for  me  by  the  Rey.  J.  H._  Griffith,  now  of 
Cincinnati. 


EARLY    YEARS.  5 

that  his  family  were  much  opposed  to  Methodism.  Mr. 
Roberts,  however,  was  very  earnest  in  his  Christian  Hfe, 
abandoned  all  frivolous  pursuits,  established  family 
worship  in  the  home,  notwithstanding  his  father's  op- 
position, and  entered  the  ministry  in  spite  of  many 
obstacles. 

The  recently  published  biography  of  the  Rev.  Henry 
Rees,  one  of  the  most  renowned  of  Welsh  preachers, 
contains  an  account  of  an  important  Association  held  at 
Hanfyllin,  in  1823.  The  subject  under  discussion  was 
the  adoption  of  a  Confession  of  Faith.  When  the 
article  on  Redemption  was  read,  "Mr.  Robert  Roberts 
rose  and  made  a  strong  attack  upon  the  restriction  con- 
tained in  the  words  'and  they  [the  elect]  only.'  He 
called  it  '  an  unscriptural  restriction '  and  charged  the 
article  with  '  being  wise  above  what  is  written. '  Those 
who  favored  the  article,  led  by  the  venerable  and  in- 
fluential John  Elias,  contended  that  the  article  was 
simply  an  abridgment  of  one  adopted  many  years 
earlier,  in  Bala.  Mr.  Roberts,  however,  argued  that 
the  words  were  only  a  partial  statement  of  the  earlier 
article — for  there  was  in  that  a  distinct  testimony  to 
the  all-sufficiency  of  the  atonement,  even  for  those  who 
were  not  saved  by  means  of  it.  This  testimony  had 
been  left  out  of  the  new  article  altogether.  'So,  having 
taken  from  us  (he  said)  our  old  Confession  in  the  liberal 
article  of  the  Church  of  England,  this  leaves  us  without 
any  declaration  of  our  faith  in  the  all-sufficiency  of 
the  atonement  for  the  whole  world.'  He  spoke  power- 
fully and  to  such  effect  that  the  discussion  was  post- 
poned to  a  following  Association."* 

*  Abridged  from  a  translation  kindly  made  by  the  Rev.  J.  H. 
Griftith.  When  Dr.  Evans  read  this  account  of  his  grandfather, 
not  long  before  his  death,  he  remarked :  "  Am  I  not  proud  of  the 
old  man !" 


6  LLEWELYN    lOAN     EVANS. 

The  Rev.  Edward  T.  Evans  (the  father  of  Professor 
Evans)  was  of  less  pronounced  individuality  than  the 
two  grandfathers.  He  was  of  a  very  retiring  disposition, 
so  that  comparatively  few  were  admitted  to  his  in- 
timacy. Those  who  had  that  privilege  were  much 
charmed  by  his  unaffected  piety  joined  to  refinement 
and  sweetness  of  temper.  He  was  an  indefatigable 
student,  and  an  earnest  Evangelical  preacher.  He  was 
settled  at  Racine,  Wisconsin,  and  at  Newark,  Ohio, 
having  preached  also  in  Wales.  Some  of  the  revival 
seasons  through  which  his  churches  passed,  are  still 
remembered  by  his  associates.  He  died  in  1881,  hav- 
ing passed  his  seventy-fourth   birthday. 

Llewelyn  inherited  through  his  mother  the  poetical 
temperament  of  his  grandfather  Roberts,  It  was  the 
mother's  custom  to  spend  an  hour  daily  in  prayer  for 
and  with  her  children,  and  this  piety  also  early  showed 
its  fruit  in  the  son.  When  quite  a  lad,  he  used  to 
lead  family  worship.  When  visiting  his  grandfather 
Evans,  it  was  his  custom  to  gather  the  mill  hands  to- 
gether, read  the  Scriptures  and  lead  them  in  prayer 
before  the  day's  work  began.  This  early  piety  had, 
however,  nothing  forced  or  unnatural  about  it,  nor  was 
it  associated  with  anything  morbid  in  his  disposition. 
For  his  disposition  was  bright  and  sunny,  and  his  in- 
terest already  went  out  towards  all  innocent  activities. 
Intellectually  he  early  gave  promise  of  his  future. 
John  Davies,  Esq.,  the  Mayor  of  Carnarvon,  writes 
that  v/hen  the  family  came  to  Bangor,  in  1846,  Llewelyn 
(then  in  his  thirteenth  year)  at  once  became  a  leader 
among  the  boys.  He  was  made  secretary  of  the 
Literary  Society  and  also  of  a  theological  class.  A 
report  made  by  him  on  a  sermon  he  had  heard  on 
"Original  Sin,"  is  still  in  existence.  Mr.  Davies  also 
alludes  to  the  mother's  influence,  saying:  "The  family 


EARLY    YEARS.  / 

atmosphere  was  spiritual  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 
After  family  devotions  were  over  in  the  morning,  Mrs. 
Evans  catechized  the  children  and  cautioned  them  as 
to  their  conduct  in  the  course  of  the  day." 

At  thirteen  years  of  age  the  youth  was  sent  to  Bala 
college,  where  he  spent  three  years.  He  at  once  be- 
came prominent  for  his  intellectual  brilliancy  and  for 
his  physical  activity.  Dr.  Edwards  alludes  to  his  early 
feat  of  walking  upon  the  railing  of  the  church  gallery — 
a  feat  which  none  of  his  companions  were  willing  to 
attempt.  One  of  his  schoolmates  says  of  him : 
"Although  so  young,  he  was  the  most  brilliant  student 
of  the  college.  He  had  an  insatiable  thirst  for  knowl- 
edge, combined  with  an  intellect  of  great  acuteness, 
and  a  most  retentive  memory.  His  perception  of  truth 
was  wonderfully  quick,  suggestive  of  instinct  or  in- 
tuition. And  he  was  even  then  a  very  fluent  speaker, 
full  of  wit  and  humor,  the  life  of  every  company.  I 
could  not  but  wonder  at  the  extent  and  range  of  his 
reading  at  that  early  period.  He  seem.ed  to  be  con- 
versant with  all  things  most  worth  reading  in  the  whole 
range  of  English  literature."  *  He  was  of  course  even 
more  at  home  in  the  Welsh  language.  For  during 
his  stay  at  Bala  he  published  poems  in  Welsh  which 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  whole  principality.  It  is 
said  that  no  student  ever  made  such  an  impression 
upon  both  professors  and  pupils.  This  came  out  in  a 
humorous  incident,  still  a  part  of  Bala  tradition.  On 
the  playground,  one  day,  young  Evans,  then  but  thir- 
teen years  of  age,  small  for  his  age  and  very  active, 
leaped  upon  the  back  of  a  large  lumbering  student 
named  J.  The  general  sentiment  was  voiced  by  one 
who  called  out:  "  J  !  keep  that  head  on  your  shoulders 
— as  long  as  you  keep  that  head  you  will  have  brains." 

*  Letter  of  G.  Parry,  Esq. 


8  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

He  was  called  by  his  schoolmates  "the  Little  Gre- 
cian." The  lady  in  whose  house  he  lodged  says  that 
he  was  so  full  of  life  that  while  learning  his  lessons 
he  would  be  running  and  cantering  about  the  room  in- 
stead of  sitting  down  to  his  books  like  other  boys. 

Three  years  were  spent  at  Bala.  But  the  boy  was 
restless,  longing  for  a  larger  sphere  of  activity.  His 
associates  still  remember  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he 
turned  towards  this  country.  He  frequently  asserted 
that  Britain's  sun  was  set,  and  that  the  country  which 
would  control  the  destinies  of  the  world  was  the  "great 
Republic  of  the  West."  So  earnest  was  he  in  preach- 
ing this  doctrine  in  the  family  that  he  was  really  the 
moving  cause  of  their  coming  to  this  country.  On  the 
eve  of  their  departure  from  Bangor  a  large  meeting 
was  held  "where  the  young  aspirant  was  presented 
with  several  volumes  of  books,  addresses  were  de- 
livered, poetry  recited,"  some  of  it  composed  for  the 
occasion.  Such  marked  honor  paid  to  a  boy  sixteen 
years  of  age  shows  well  the  esteem  in  which  he  was 
already  held.  Well  known  Welsh  poets  had  already 
hailed  him  as  their  comrade. 

The  family  reached  Milwaukee,  Wisconsin,  in  Sep- 
tember, 1850,  and,  soon  after,  the  Rev.  E.  T.  Evans 
became  pastor  of  the  Welsh  Church  of  Racine.  The 
son  entered  Racine  College,  receiving  the  degree  of 
B.  S.  in  1854,  and  that  of  A.  B.  in  1856.  His  intel- 
lectual activity  during  these  years  was  as  marked  as  in 
the  old  country.  He  was  an  earnest  speaker  on  behalf 
of  temperance  and  the  Sunday  School  work.  He  took 
the  lead  in  musical  and  literary  organizations,  and  was 
founder  of  the  Welsh  Literary  Society  in  Racine.  It 
was  mainly  through  his  efforts  that  the  Welsh  National 
Literary  Association  was  held  for  the  first  time  in  the 
West.     This  I  suppose  to  be  the  Eisteddfodd  of  1856, 


EARLY     YEARS.  9 

from  which  one  of  his  manuscript  poems  is  dated. 
His  poem  on  the  Victory  of  the  Cross,  which  took  the 
first  prize  in  1857,  is  said  to  be  equal  to  anything  in 
the  Welsh  language.  Several  poems  in  English  were 
written  during  his  college  course,  and  specimens  will 
be  published  in  the  volume  of  Essays  and  Addresses 
now  in  preparation.  During  his  college  course  he  suf- 
fered sore  bereavement  in  the  death  of  his  sister,  to 
whom  he  was  tenderly  attached,  and  within  a  year  from 
that  event  his  mother  also  was  called  away. 

The  year  of  graduation  from  college  was  the  year  of 
the  first  national  campaign  of  the  Republican  party, 
with  Fremont  as  its  candidate  for  the  presidency.  Young 
Evans,  already  a  well  known  and  popular  speaker,  took 
the  stump  on  behalf  of  the  new  party.  The  ticket 
was  defeated  in  the  country  at  large,  but  its  orator  in 
Wisconsin  was  elected  a  member  of  the  State  legisla- 
ture. Although  the  youngest  member  of  the  body,  he 
soon  became  one  of  its  leading  spirits,  and  was  made 
chairman  of  its  important  committee  of  education.  He 
served  but  one  term,  however,  finding  the  climate  too 
severe  for  his  health.  Early  in  1857  he  accepted  an 
appointment  on  the  editorial  staff  of  the  Cincinnati 
Gazette,  and  removed  to  this  city. 

The  thought  of  the  Christian  ministry  as  his  true 
calling  was  one  which  came  to  him  frequently.  He 
had  been  consecrated  by  his  mother  to  this  work  at  his 
birth.  But  he  often  said  to  her:  "dearly  as  I  love 
you,  I  can  not  decide  to  study  for  the  ministry,  unless 
I  hear  the  call  in  my  own  heart."  Of  his  intellectual 
difficulties  on  some  points  of  theology,  we  shall  hear 
later.  The  conviction  that  the  ministry  was  his  work, 
came  strongly  upon  him  in  Cincinnati.  Possibly  he 
was  led  to  think  more  seriously  of  it  by  the  influence  of 
Professor  D.  Howe  Allen,  long  a  beloved  professor  in 


lO  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

Lane  Seminary.  It  is  known  that  before  entcrinj^  the 
seminary  he  had  at  least  one  important  interview  with 
Dr.  Allen.  The  result  was  that  in  the  Fall  of  1857 
Llewelyn  Evans  was  enrolled  as  a  student  in  Lane 
Seminary.  This  was,  of  course,  a  decisive  step  in  the 
bearing  upon  his  life  work. 

Before  entering  upon  the  history  of  his  seminary 
course,  it  may  be  well  to  speak  briefly  of  his  abandon- 
ment of  Welsh  literature.  As  we  have  seen  he  had 
early  attained  a  distinguished  place  among  his  country- 
men both  here  and  in  his  native  country.  Besides  his 
poem  on  the  Victory  of  the  Cross,  he  published  one 
on  Time,  one  entitled  A  Pastoral  Song,  and  one  on 
Martyrdom.  The  last  named  took  the  first  prize  at  the 
Utica  Eisteddfodd.  These  received  high  praise  from 
the  most  competent  critics.  The  judge  to  whom  the 
poems  competing  at  one  Eisteddfodd  were  sent  for  ad- 
judication— himself  a  poet  of  high  reputation — said  : 
"the  poets  of  the  old  country  must  look  to  their 
laurels."  Another  critic  praised  highly  the  "  originality, 
profundity,  scholarship,  taste  and  beauty "  of  Dr. 
Evans'  poem.  Dr.  Evans'  Welsh  prose  was  also 
highly  appreciated.  His  essay  on  the  "  Value  of  Ed- 
ucation," which  first  appeared  in  this  country,  was 
republished  in  Wales,  where  it  attracted  wide  attention. 
The  editor  who  introduced  it  there  thought  it  probably 
not  altogether  to  the  taste  of  his  readers,  -because  too 
original.  He  advised  his  readers,  therefore,  "  if  they 
find  it  too  American,  to  read  it  a  second  time,"  and 
they  will  find  its  good  points.  He  finds  in  it  the 
"union  of  philosopher  and  poet,"  as  well  as  "the 
fiery  zeal  of  a  young  writer  following  his  subject  to  its 
logical  conclusion."  Other  contributions  of  Dr.  Evans 
to  Welsh  newspapers  and  magazines  are  remembered 
as  characterized  bv  life  and  freshness. 


EARLY     YEARS.  1 1 

After  the  publication  of  the  poem  on  the  Victory  of 
the  Cross,  the  author  was  attacked  by  an  unsuccessful 
competitor,  and,  later,  an  extended  criticism  of  the 
poem  appeared  signed  "Lover  of  Poetry."  The 
charge  against  the  author  was  that  he  plagiarized  from 
Milton.  The  poem  was  criticized  for  its  alleged  faults 
of  metre  and  violations  of  good  taste.  In  the  year 
1858,  Dr.  Evans  published  a  pamphlet  reply  to  these 
critics  entitled  "Crach  Feirniadeath, "  or  "Sham  Crit- 
icism." In  this  he  not  only  defends  himself  against 
the  charges  made,  but  expounds  at  length  the  princi- 
ples of  criticism  and  of  literary  composition,  the  laws 
of  verse  and  the  nature  of  plagiarism.  That  the  de- 
fense was  successful  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that 
no  rejoinder  was  made.  The  incident  is  of  especial 
interest  to  us  here,  because  it  was  the  occasion  of  the 
author's  giving  up  Welsh  literature.  The  pamphlet 
concluded  with  a  farewell  to  the  Welsh  muse,  which 
gives  us  a  vivid  perception  of  the  writer's  state  of  feel- 
ing, and  which  I  therefore  quote  at  length.* 

"But,  in  conclusion,  I  have  allowed  myself  to  write 
more  at  length  than  I  would  have  written  had  I  not 
resolved  that  this  shall  be  my  last  contest  on  the  field 
of  Welsh  literature.  Let  Lover  of  Poetry,  with  his 
Falstafnan  host,  take  notice  that  I  am  determined  to 
wage  this  one  through  to  the  bitter  end;  but  ever  after- 
ward I  will  let  Welsh  '  lovers  of  poetry  '  alone.  I  have 
always  been  proud  that  I  was  a  Welshman,  and  I  shall 
continue  to  be  so  as  long  as  there  is  a  drop  of  Welsh 
blood  in  my  veins.  I  never  permitted  a  proper  oppor- 
tunity to  pass  without  doing  what  I  could  to  exalt  my 
countrymen,  everj/where  and  in  every  kind  of  assembly, 
as  hundreds  of  citizens  in  the  West  can  testify.  I  had 
a  dream  once  that  I  might  possibly  be  of  some  service 


*The    translation  was    kindly   sent  me  by  G.  H.  Humphrey^, 
Esq.,  of  Utica,  N.  Y. 


12  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

to  the  literature  and  to  the  advancement  of  my  country- 
men. 

'  But  earth  has  bubbles  as  the  water  hath, 
And  this  was  of  them.' 

That  dream  has  vanished.  It  may  be  that  after  some 
centuries  have  elapsed  it  will  be  easier  for  men  of  sim- 
ilar aspirations  to  realize  such  dreams  than  it  now  is. 
But,  unfortunately,  there  are  too  many  '  Lovers  of 
Poetry,'  of  'Leading  Men  of  Our  Nation'  and  of 
'Unprejudiced  Men,'  among  the  Welsh  people  of 
to-day.  The  knowledge  of  these  persons  is  immense! 
Their  taste  is  worthy  of  Apollo !  Their  judgment 
worthy  of  Longinus  !  Their  politeness  worthy  of  Ches- 
terfield !  Their  veracity  worthy  of  Washington !  And 
their  sentence  worthy  of  Rhadamanthus  himself!  There 
is  no  higher  court  in  the  Welsh  world  to  appeal  to,  and 
this  has  found  rp.e  guilty.  I  sink  into  the  nonentity  that 
becomes  me.  I  will  retire  and  make  room  for  others 
worthier  of  their  favor.  Let  no  one  mistake  my  mo- 
tive. I  know  that  life  is  a  battle,  and  that  it  is  unmanly 
to  succumb  before  obstacles  and  opposition.  But  I 
hope  in  the  name  of  Reason  that  there  are  worthier 
things  to  fight  against  than  carping  pigmies,  sham 
critics,  sham  literates,  sham  grammarians,  sham  poets 
and  sham  preachers,  with  the  hordes  of  Blockheadism 
and  Stupidity  behind  them — against  which  it  is -said 
even  the  gods  are  powerless.  '  In  our  wide  world  there 
is  but  one  altogether  fatal  personage — the  Dunce !'  says 
Carlyle.     But  as  Swift  says  : 

'On  me  when  dunces  are  satiric 
I  take  it  for  a  panegyric  ; 
Hated  by  fools,  and  fools  to  hate, 
Be  that  my  motto  and  my  fate.' 

"  If  obscurity  and  nonentity  are  my  place,  let  me  be 
consigned  to  them  by  men  who  know  what  poetry  is. 
If  I  am  a  plagiarist  I  appeal  to  a  public  which  knows 
what  that  means,  and  to  a  people  that  will  at  least  do 
justice.  I  leave  my  Welsh  compositions  to  their  fate.  I 
authorize  *  Lover  of  Poetry*  and  his  army  of  'Famous 
Men'  and   'Leading  Men'  to  collect  them,  cast  them 


EARLY    YEARS.  I  3 

into  the  fire,  scatter  them  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven 
and  destroy  them  from  the  land  of  the  Uving.  But  let 
them  do  their  worst — they  can  not  take  away  the  hap- 
piness of  the  hours  in  which  they  were  composed. 
They  can  not  deprive  me  of  the  joy  with  which  I  wel- 
comed the  visit  of  these  visions  to  the  chamber  of  my 
mind — 

'  That  turned  me  cold 

And  pale  and  voiceless,  leaving  in  the  brain 

A  rocking  and  a  ringing  glorious.' 

They  never  can  dry  up  some  tears  that  are  treasured  in 
the  bottle  of  the  muse — 

*  Such  glorious  tears  as  Eve's  fair  daughters  shed, 
When  first  they  clasped  a  son  of  God  all  bright. 
With  burning  plumes  and  splendors  of  the  sky, 
In  zoning  heaven  of-their  milky  arms.' 

"Fare  thee  well,  Welsh  Muse!  Muse  of  my  mother's 
tongue!  We  have  spent  some  sweet  hours  together — 
may  they  be  sacred  in  the  cemetery  of  the  past.  My  mind 
wanders  there  in  the  night  watches.  A  tear  drops  on  their 
graves,  welling  up  with  the  groan  from  a  disappointed 
heart.*  My  soul  holds  yearning  mute  communion  with 
their  spirits  in  the  divine  light  of  the  stars.  A  blessing 
upon  thee,  venerable  Muse  of  Wales!  In  thy  departure 
from  me  go  and  visit  others.  Solace  them  with  a  solace 
greater  than  that  which  thou  didst  pour  into  my  heart. 
Teach  them  to  sing  thy  mysteries  better  than  I  learned 
to  sing  them.  May  their  hopes  not  be  blasted  by  a 
cold  and  cruel  blast  from  any  quarter !  May  their  good 
name  not  be  tarnished  by  the  foul  breath  of  slander  and 
libel !  May  their  hearts  not  be  pierced  by  the  stabs  ot 
envy !  Never,  never,  may  they  be  dragged  without 
cause  and  against  their  will  into  disputes  that  will  embit- 
ter their  souls,  and  send  their  good  angel  far  away  from 
them !  Never  may  the  inviolability  of  their  word  be 
questioned !  Never  may  their  motives  in  yielding  to 
thine  inspiration  be  suspected !  Never  may  they  be 
disappointed  by  false  friends,  and  may  their  confidence 


*  Literally,  "A   tear  is  shaken  on   the  graves  by  the  groan 
(sigh)  from  a  disappointed  heart." 


14  LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 

in  men  never  be  shaken !  Never  may  their  sincere  de- 
sire to  serve  thee  be  considered  a  crime !  Success  be 
upon  all  they  do  and  say  !  May  their  words  fall  into  the 
hearts  of  men  as  wine  goes  into  the  lips  of  him  that  is 
ready  to  perish !  May  they  become  household  words ! 
May  they  be  taught  by  the  mother  to  her  child !  May 
they  be  whispered  by  the  youth  to  his  beloved  !  May 
they  lighten  the  heart  of  the  sad,  make  serious  the 
mirth  of  the  merry,  and  lead  to  beauty,  virtue  and  hap- 
piness !  May  their  life  be  like  a  sunny  day,  and  their 
departure  like  a  cloudless  sunset !  May  their  path  lie 
among  flowers  and  roses  and  not  among  thorns  and 
briers !  May  their  names  be  blessed,  may  they  be  trans- 
mitted from  father  to  son  throughout  the  generations 
of  Corner's  race,  and  may  they  be  embalmed  forever  in 
the  memory  of  a  grateful  nation !  Fare  thee  well,  an- 
cient muse  of  my  Fathers !  Not  without  tears — once 
and  forever:  Farewell!" 

It  is  not  difiicult  to  read  between  the  lines  here. 
The  young  poet  had  been  stung  by  the  nature  of  the 
polemic  waged  against  him.  Full  of  the  highest  as- 
pirations, the  warmest  devotion  to  literature,  he  had 
found  himself  misunderstood  and  misjudged.  He  came 
to  the  quick  resolve  to  abandon  so  ungrateful  a  soil. 
His  powers  might  be  employed  where  they  would  re- 
sult in  more  than  criticism  and  quarrel.  He  would 
turn  to  that  larger  field.  But  this  resolution  was  occa- 
sioned, not  caused,  by  the  immediate  situation.  Young 
Evans  had  been  early  impressed  by  the  greatness  of  this 
country.  He  had  now  become  acquainted  with  its 
opportunities,  and  had  determined  where  his  own  work 
lay.  The  one  thing  he  was  to  do  stood  out  clearly  be- 
fore him.  The  painful  experience  with  his  critics  prob- 
ably crystallized  an  already  forming  resolution.  That 
resolution  was  to  turn  from  the  many  interests  which 
had  claimed  him  in  the  past  in  order  to  devote  himself 
more  thoroughly  to  his  direct  mission.  That  he  was  a 
favorite  not   only  of  the  Welsh  muse,   but  also  of  her 


EARLY    YEARS.  1 5 

English  sister,   is   evident  from  the  following — one   of 
his  poems  from  his  college  course: 

JUNE. 

Come  Juno  of  the  year  and  Goddess-Queen, 
Walking  with  regal  pride  the  months  between, 
Beclothed  in  thronal  robes  of  darkest  green, 

That  fall  behind  like  clouds  auroral  flowing  ; 
Of  deeper  beauty,  ripelier  blown  than  May, 
Nor  bronzed  like  August  by  the  scorching  ray, 
Nor  crimsoned  by  the  kiss  of  Winter  gray 

But  deep  with  life's  intensest  splendor  glowing! 

Come  sweeping  through  the  great  Olympian  hall, 
'Mong  its  majestic  forest  pillars  tall 
Trailing  behind  thine  ample-spreading  pall, 

With  brightest  leaves  and  flowers  interwoven. 
Raining  thy  smiles  of  most  maternal  love 
On  the  divinities  of  vale  and  grove. 
Whose  eyes  like  glimpses  of  the  blue  above, 

Sparkle  among  the  leaves  by  breezes  moven. 

I  love  thee,  June,  whene'er  thou  walkest  forth, 
For  it  was  thou,  who  ushered  in  my  birth  ; 
'Twas  in  thy  smile  I  first  beheld  the  earth. 

In  thy  hand  took  the  infant  steps  of  being ! 
And  once,  in  age  and  gladsomeness  a  boy, 
Alas  that  Time  should  both  so  soon  destroy ! 
I  looked  upon  thee  with  a  face  all  joy. 

And  only  felt  delight  thy  presence  seeing. 

I  read  no  sorrow  in  thy  tender  eye. 

No  shade  of  sadness  on  thy  brow  did  lie: 

I  laughed  upon  thee  with  the  jollity 

Of  a  child  fondled  by  his  mother  dear 
And  playing  with  the  tresses  of  her  hair. 
And  clinging  to  her  lips  with  loving  air ; 
Thus  once  did  I  hang  on  thy  face  so  fair. 

And  nestle  in  thy  bosom  without  fear. 

Thus  was  it  once  ;  but,  ah  !  'tis  thus  no  more ! 

I  love  thee  still  but  with  a  bosom  sore. 

And  thou,  methinks,  seemst  sadder  than  of  yore. 

Thy  beauty  and  thy  smiles  seem  touched  with  sorrow. 
Thy  comings  unto  me  have  been  of  late. 
Dark  visitations  of  a  cruel  fate 
For  death  did  hither  on  thy  footsteps  wait. 

And  chill  me  with  eternity's  cold  shadow. 

Thrice  hast  thou  come  and  gone — like  yesterday. 
It  seems — since  thou  my  sister  bore  away  ; 
My  only  sister — more  I  can  not  say. 

My  being's  half  was  gone  :  I  had  no  other. 


l6  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

Yet,  still,  one  joy  remained,  and  heaven  I  blest, 
One  spot  there  was  where  my  sad  heart  might  rest, 
And  there  I  flew  like  birdlinL^^to  its  nest, 
I  had  a  home,  for  still  I  had  a  mother. 

But  now  she  too  is  gone  with  thee,  and  I — 
My  nest  is  scattered — whither  shall  I  fly  ? 
The  scathing  bolt  has  fallen  from  on  high, 

Has  struck  and  caused  my  bowery  home  to  wither. 
My  leafy  joys  have  tripped  away  and  now 
I  stand  upon  the  stripped  and  blackened  bough, 
And  shudder  in  the  chilling  winds  that  blow, 

And  fain  would  weakly  fly  away — but  whither? 

E'en  now  a  blast  cold  as  the  grave  doth  come, 

And  whisper  like  a  wail  of  death  from  some 

Lone  mocking  demon  :  'Wretch!  thou  hast  no  home!' 

No  home!  What  echoes  of  despair  awaken! 
No  sister's  answering  glance  of  feelingness  ! 
No  mother's  all-in-all  of  lovingness. 
Nor  endless  forms  of  winningness! 

I  have  no  home !  'Tis  desolate,  forsaken. 

Yet  June,  I  love  thee  still,  for  thou  dost  seem 
Full  of  divinest  pities  which  do  gleam 
Within  thy  glances  as  in  childhood's  dream 

Those  that  around  the  dying  Jesus  hover, 
And  with  thy  heaven-sent  dewy  calms  would  heal 
The  creeping  blight  that  o'er  my  heart  doth  steal, 
And  in  thine  azure  eye  of  love  reveal 

A  full  infinite  heaven  bending  over. 

These  verses  are  dated  June  27,  1855,  the  author's 
twenty-second  birthday.  They  give  us  a  ghmpse  into 
the  wealth  of  feeUng  in  his  heart,  and  show  the  sober- 
ing effect  of  recent  afflictions.  As  his  hfe-work  became 
more  absorbing  he  paid  less  attention  to  poetry,  though 
occasionally  throughout  life  tlie  old  fire  would  break 
forth. 


II. 

THEOLOGY  AND  PREACHING. 

Lane  Seminary,  founded  nearly  thirty  years  before 
this  time,  was  in  1857  manned  by  three  professors  of 
distinguished  abihty  and  scholarship.  Of  these  the 
first  in  influence  was  Dr.  D.  Howe  Allen,  then  occu- 
pying the  chair  of  systematic  theology.  Dr.  Allen 
was  especially  attractive  to  young  men  by  his  sympa- 
thetic insight  into  the  experiences  of  the  heart.  He 
became  the  confidential  friend  and  adviser  of  those  he 
taught,  and  his  pupils  remember  him  as  a  living  rep- 
resentative of  the  beloved  disciple.  It  was  a  help  to 
Llewelyn  Evans  to  come  into  association  with  such  a 
man  at  this  time,  for  like  all  young  men  who  think,  he 
had  his  time  of  ''storm  and  stress."  It  was  a  con- 
ference in  which  he  had  laid  before  Dr.  Allen  his 
difficulties  in  theology  which  decided  him  to  enter  the 
seminary,  and  it  is  known  that  later  they  discussed 
privately  the  problems  more  formally  treated  in  the 
class  room.  Near  the  opening  of  his  second  seminary 
year  (Aug.  19,  1858)  he  wrote  at  some  length  to  a 
friend  in  Wales,  who  has  kindly  furnished  in  transla- 
tion the  following  extract,  descriptive  of  his  state  of 
mind. 

"Somehow,  the  tim.e  has  slipped  away,  and  on  look- 
ing back  I  fail  to  conceive  what  I  have  been  doing. 
At  the  time  however,  when    we  are    not   conscious  of 

(17) 


iS  LLEVVEYLYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

what  is  doing,  we  are  sometimes  undergoing  the  great- 
est changes,  and  are  passing  through  a  crisis  in  our  hves. 
So  the  last  two  months  have  been,  in  some  respects, 
an  important  period  in  my  Hfe,  and  as  I  have  com- 
menced hfting  the  veil  from  some  of  the  mysteries  of 
my  internal  hfe,  I  feel  an  inclination  to  proceed  with 
that  work.  At  the  close  of  my  first  term  in  the 
seminary,  it  was  natural  for  me  to  examine  myself  and 
look  around  to  see  to  what  point  the  past  had  brought 
me,  and  in  what  direction  I  was  drifting  towards  the 
future.  I  took  an  important  step  when  I  joined  the 
seminary.  I  have  through  that  proclaimed  my  desire 
and  determination  to  serve  my  fellow  men  by  instruct- 
ing them  in  the  truth — and  that,  as  the  truth  is  under- 
stood and  explained  by  orthodox  churches.  In  this 
desire  and  determination  I  am,  so  far  as  I  know  myself, 
perfectly  sincere.  But  it  is  necessary  for  me  here  to 
state  that  my  own  personal  notions  respecting  several 
theological  points  are  very  unsettled.  Since  I  began 
to  think  for  myself  I  have  had  some  doubts  respecting 
some  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Old  Body  [Welsh  Cal- 
vinistic  Church].  I  do  not  know  whether  there  is  any- 
thing in  the  atmosphere  of  this  country  more  favorable 
to  the  spirit  of  doubt  than  in  the  stationary  atmosphere 
of  the  Old  Country  or  not.  It  is  certain  that  it  flour- 
ishes more  generally  here  as  regards  everything  —  es- 
pecially religious  truth.  And  once  that  spirit  begins 
to  work  in  the  mind,  it  will  not  rest  until  it  tests  even 
the  old  dear  truths  which  appeared  so  beautiful  and 
natural  to  us  when  we  were  children.  And  while 
this  spirit  exists  it  is  not  possible  for  man  to  believe 
the  truth  with  such  living  faith  as  is  worthy  of  the 
truth — faith  that  takes  hold  of  it,  that  embraces  it  and 
is  wedded  to  it.  And  this  is  the  only  faith  to  which 
my  soul  can  be  reconciled.  It  is  not  sufficient  for  me 
that  a  truth  fills  some  niche  in  the  building — that  it  is 
serviceable  as  a  sort  of  logical  fiction  to  hold  the  system 
together.  I  have  not  much  faith  in  a  system  at  all. 
That  which  I  believe  must  commend  itself  to  my  belief 
as  a  truth  alive  in  itself — as  something  that  fills  a 
want  in  my  own  soul — not  some  metaphysical  vacimm 


THEOLOGY    AND    PREACHING.  1 9 

in  my  intellect.  I  have  therefore  resolved  that  I  will 
not  accept  anything  as  truth  save  that  which  I  can  en- 
tirely believe  ;  because  it  is  better  for  a  man  to  have 
real  faith  in  orte  truth  than  to  give  some  sort  of  soulless 
assent  to  a  hundred  truths.  As  a  result  I  had  thrown 
aside  one  theological  opinion  after  another,  until  my 
faith  had  been  reduced  to  a  minimum.  Through  God's 
mercy,  some  truths  remained  as  objects  of  my  faith, 
and  these  I  have  as  foundation  stones  on  which  I  am 
able  to  build  some  sort  of  positive  belief.  That  is  to 
be  my  work  for  the  coming  year,  and  I  intend  taking 
to  it  in  a  spirit  free  and  open  to  the  truth,  expecting 
the  blessing  of  the  God  of  truth  upon  my  labors. 

"  I  do  not  reject  anything  because  it  is  a  mystery. 
Just  the  reverse — I  can  not  imagine  how  any  one  who 
has  earnestly  thought  on  it  can  help  perceiving  that 
every  truth  has  its  mystery,  just  as  every  substance  has 
its  shadov/.  But  I  do  not  know  how  to  receive  any- 
thing that  is  repugnant  to  the  laws  of  my  soul  and  the 
conditions  of  its  working.  I  can  not  falsify  myself 
without  losing  faith  in  everything.  If  I  succeed,  there- 
fore, in  reconciling  what  are  now  called  orthodox  doc- 
trines with  those  laws  to  which  they  now  appear  con- 
tradictory, my  path  is  clear  before  me,  and  my 
determination  remains  immovable.  If  I  fail,  I  can  not 
pretend  to  a  faith  which  I  do  not  possess ;  and  it  will 
be  necessary  for  me  to  turn  my  face  again  to  literature, 
and  serve  the  world  in  other  ways.  I  resolve  at  any 
rate  to  be  a  free  man,  and  not  to  undertake  anything 
that  will  not  allov/  me  to  speak  out  my  mind  on  any 
subject.  Some  of  my  friends,  who  are  in  a  measure 
aware  of  my  opinions  and  resolutions,  urge  me  to  strike 
out  and  become  independent  of  all  other  religious  de- 
nominations. But,  as  for  myself,  I  feel  that  if  it  is  not 
possible  for  me  to  be  an  orthodox  preacher  (as  it  is 
called),  it  is  better  for  me  not  to  be  one  at  all,  and  that 
I  can  do  more  good  in  other  circles.  This  is  the  sum- 
mary of  my  meditations  and  resolutions  during  the  past 
two  months.  My  destiny  will  be  fixed  during  the  next 
nine  months.  Whatever  it  may  be,  I  trust  it  may  be 
acceptable  to  my  Heavenly  Father,  and  consistent  both 


20  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

with  my  self-respect  and  with   the  dictates  of  my  con- 
science." 

It  can  not  be  doubted  that  such  a  statement,  made  to 
an  intimate  friend  in  a  private  letter,  unveils  the  heart 
of  the  writer.  And  the  heart  "thus  unveiled  commands 
our  interest  by  the  honesty  of  its  purpose.  The  writer 
is  determined,  first  of  all,  to  be  true  to  himself.  He 
will  accept  no  statement  of  truth  except  as  he  finds  it 
true.  He  enters  upon  investigation  with  the  desire  to 
know  the  truth.  But  while  he  will  carry  with  him  no 
prejudice  for  the  old  because  it  is  old,  he  yet  sees  that 
religious  power  is  with  the  truth  as  generally  held  by 
the  Evangelical  churches.  He  has  no  desire  to  be  a 
free  lance  in  theology,  or  to  become  the  leader  of  a  new 
school  of  thought.  He  will  give  existing  churches  the 
benefit  of  his  work  or  he  will  turn  to  something  else 
than  preaching.  The  fact  that  he  completed  his  semi- 
nary course  and  entered  upon  the  ministry  is  proof 
sufficient  that  his  inquiries  gave  him  evidence  of  the 
agreement  of  orthodox  doctrine  with  those  laws  of  our 
own  mind,  which  we  can  not  ignore  without  giving  up 
our  prerogative  as  rational  beings.  And  while  we  ac- 
cept this  conclusion  we  must  recognize  in  the  letter  just 
quoted,  that  the  purpose  expressed  is  based  on  a  sincere 
religious  faith.  The  young  theological  student  avows 
his  desire  and  determination  to  instruct  his  fellow-men 
in  the  truth.  He  expects  the  blessing  of  the  God  of 
truth  upon  his  labors.  He  has  a.  high  idea  of  the  value 
of  the  truth  as  held  by  the  so-called  orthodox  churches. 
He  looks  for  the  blessing  of  the  Heavenly  Father  upon 
his  efforts  to  ascertain  the  truth.  In  all  these  expres- 
sions we  see  the  religious  faith  at  the  foundation  of  his 
being.  It  was  with  an  earnest  consecration  that  he  pur- 
sued his  studies  and  looked  forward  to  the  great  work 
of  instructing  his  fellow-men.      But  it  is  worth  noticing 


THEOLOGY    AND    FREACHING.  24. 

that  even  thus  early  he  claims  for  himself  the  liberty  of 
a  free  man,  and  resolves  not  to  undertake  anything  that 
will  not  allow  him  to  speak  out  his  mind  on  any  sub- 
ject. For  this  shows  us  the  understanding  with  which 
he  entered  the  Presbyterian  ministry.  Minds  of  such 
originality  as  his,  are  not  apt  to  accept  a  system  ver- 
batmi  et  literatim.  He  already  avows  his  distrust  of  a 
system  as  a  system.  He  could  not  suppose  that  in 
adopting  a  system  of  doctrine  he  gave  up  the  liberty 
which  he  so  strenuously  claims  at  the  very  outset  of 
his  studies.  Had  the  New  School  Church  in  examining 
him  for  ordination  insisted  upon  the  rigid  terms  lately 
urged  in  the  united  church,  it  would  have  deprived 
itself  of  the  services  of  one  of  the  most  exemplary, 
earnest  and  consecrated  (as  well  as  one  of  the  most 
scholarly  and  brilliant)  men  that  ever  entered  upon  its 
ministry.  These  remarks  are  made  with  no  polemJc  pur- 
pose, but  for  the  light  they  shed  upon  the  closing  years 
of  Professor  Evans'  life. 

The  spirit  with  which  the  young  student  entered  on 
his  work,  may,  perhaps,  be  gathered  from  a  sermon 
(preserved  in  outline)  on  the  text:  "Unto  me  who  am 
less  than  the  least  of  all  saints  was  this  grace  given  to 
preach  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ."  In  the  in- 
troduction to  this  sermon  he  says:  "There  never  lived 
a  minister  of  the  truth  who  so  magnified  his  calling  as 
the  Apostle  Paul.  It  is  exceedingly  interesting  in 
reading  to  observe  the  glowing  satisfaction,  the  joy, 
the  enthusiasm,  with  which  [he  views  it].  Every- 
where we  see  beaming  forth  the  conviction  that  he 
had  found  a  work  in  which  all  his  mighty  energies 
might  expatiate.  And  there  is  nothing  which  fills  the 
soul  with  such  joy,  as  the  possession  of  a  work  which 
summons  to  its  performance  the  highest  and  best  in  a 
man Such  a  work   had   Paul  found — 


32  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

to  preacJi  the  wiscarcJiablc  riches  of  Christ."  At  a  later 
date  he  expressed  again  his  conviction  of  the  import- 
ance of  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel  in  these  words: 
"Thought  shivering  in  the  Arctic  winter  night  of  un- 
belief;  Life  pining  on  the  barren  banks  of  secularism ; 
Society  festering  in  a  corrupt  pool  of  sensationalism ; 
Agnosticism  turning  its  back  to  the  sun,  refusing  to 
see  anything  but  the  blackness  of  its  own  shadow; 
Materialism  substituting  the  dance  of  atoms  for  the 
processes  of  omnipotence,  and  reading  its  destiny  in 
the  dust  of  death,  and  not  in  immortal  progression — 
what  is  the  cure  for  all  this  ?  Only  in  men  who  know 
God  with  a  knowledge  that  is  power  and  hfe.  The 
world  is  hungry  for  God,  and  is  d)-ing  for  the  want  of 
the  spirit  of  truth  and  love.  Be  it  yours  to  give  God 
to  men,  to  bring  men  to  God ;  straight  to  God  from 
everything,  straight  from  God  to  everything,  face  to 
face  with  God  in  everything.  V/e  commend  you  not 
to  any  theory  of  God,  not  to  an}'  h}'pothesis  about 
God,  but  to  God  himself — God  as  pith  of  every 
thought,  God  as  nerve  of  every  purpose,  God  as  wing 
of  every  word,  God  as  spring  of  every  action,  God  as 
care  of  every  conscience,  pole  of  every  heart,  goal  of 
ever}''  life.  Be  God  all  your  end,  all  your  existence. 
To  this  God  we  commend  you."  These  eloquent 
words  show  hov.'  the  writer's  early  conviction  of  the 
importance  of  instructing  his  fellow-men  in  religious 
truth  had  ripened.  It  had  in  fact  become  a  passion. 
The  truth  of  God  as  it  is  in  Jesus  Christ  had  taken 
full  possession  of  his  soul.  But  it  was  alread}'  there 
in  the  early  time  when  he  was  not  certain  that  he 
should  be  able  to  accept  the  forms  in  which  the  truth 
is  accepted  by  the  orthodox  churches.  For  even  then 
he  saw  the  essential  qualities  of  Gospel  faith  and  its 
adaptation  to  the  needs  of  men. 


THEOLOGY  AND  PREACHING.  23 

Mr.  Evans  entered  the  seminary  a  few  weeks  after 
the  opening  of  the  term.  His  classmates  remember 
him  as  at  first  somewhat  reserved.  The  reserve  was 
increased  in  appearance  by  the  fact  that  he  was  an  en- 
tire stranger,  while  most  of  the  students,  coming  from 
colleges  already  represented  in  the  seminary,  found  old 
acquaintances  among  their  fellow-students.  It  was  not 
long,  however,  before  the  stranger  was  recognized  as  a 
brilliant  student  as  v/ell  as  a  warm  and  genial  friend. 
One  of  his  classmates  *  writes:  "Llewelyn  Evans  was 
not  a  young  man  to  push  an  acquaintance.  Yet  there 
was  even  then  [at  the  first]  a  magnetic  influence  about 
him  to  command  attention,  and  one  would  inquire  of 
another  who  that  was  that  went  trotting  around  with  a 
head  like  Moses'  bush.  But  it  was  not  long  until  he 
led  us  to  look  at  him  in  a  different  light.  It  was,  I 
think,  after  his  first  topical  discussion  before  tlie  class 
which  came  out  bristling  with  sharp  points  and  was 
read  with  lightning-like  rapidity,  that  the  ever  ready 
Joe  Little  whispered  something  in  my  ear  about  Mer- 
curius  having  come  down  to  join  our  class.  From 
that  time  there  was,  I  think,  no  difference  of  opinion 
as  to  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  class  in  ability  and 
scholarship.  He  was  not  only  honored,  but  beloved 
by  all  his  classmates."  Another  classmate  f  emphasizes 
especially  his  helpfulness  and  sympathy.  This  gentle- 
man, writing  of  differences  of  view  among  the  students 
on  the  subject  of  slavery,  says:  "He  saw  I  needed 
sympathy.  He  came  to  my  help.  He  did  not  see  as 
I  did,  but  he  thought  he  saw  me  standing  for  a  prin- 
ciple. And  whether  it  was  right  or  wrong  for  my 
church  to  press  the  principle  to  the  extent  it  did.  he 
conceived  it  to  be  m.y   right   to  hold  that  view.     And 

*  The  Rev.  J.  P.  Williamson, 
t  The  Rev.  A.  T.  Rankin,  D,D. 


24  T.LEVVELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

these  differences  of  view  and  of  denomination  made  no 
difference  as  to  our  friendship.  He  was  indebted  to 
me  for  a  few  lessons  in  Hebrew ;  but  I  to  him  for  the 
influence  of  a  maturer  mind,  a  stronger  intellect,  keener 
perceptive  faculties  and  riper  scholarship ;  withal  a 
loving  heart  that  repaid  me  a  thousand-fold  in  less  than 

a  week He  had  that  indefinable  something  which 

gives  ease  to  a  child  in  presence  of,  and  converse  with, 
a  man.  That  great  mind  of  his  did  not  come  down 
upon  you  with  the  weight  of  its  treasures  to  crush  you, 
or  to  frighten  you  with  its  flashes  of  light — but  to  en- 
courage you,  to  cheer  you,  to  give  you  ease  and  to 
draw  something  from  you  ;  leaving  you  with  the  feeling : 
*  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.'  Though 
you  received  abundance  from  him,  he  left  you  as  God 
left  Jacob  —  feeling  very  good  at  giving  a  tithe  back. 
Right  there  was  Evans'  power.  It  was  that  large 
sympathy  that  put  his  mind  into  your  mind  and  mingled 
his  thoughts  with  your  thoughts  so  that  you  never  drew 
the  line,  but  had  all  things  in  common.  The  man 
with  a  narrow  lot  has  as  good  a  view  as  the  one  with 
broad  acres  if  the  line  fences  have  never  been  built.  . .  . 
I  have  questioned  many  of  the  graduates  and  they  all 
seem  to  have  had  more  in  common  with  Evans  than 
with  any  teacher  in  college  or  seminary.  So  you  find 
it  was  with  his  classmates.  There  were  fifteen  of  us. 
He  outranked  us  all,  but  touched  the  envy  of  none."* 
The  characteristics  of  the  man  as  here  portrayed  are 
the  same  everywhere  emphasized  by  his  friends.  One 
of  his  earliest  friends  says:  "I  may  briefly  say  that  I 
consider  it  one  of  the  greatest  privileges  of  my  life  to 
have  enjoyed  his  friendship  for  twenty-two  years.  As 
a  man,  I  found  him  full  of  poetic  genius,  of   great  re- 

*  Address  delivered  at  the  Lane  Seminary  Club  on  the  Life  of 
Dr.  Evans. 


THEOLOGY   AND    PREACHING.  2$ 

source  and  sound  learning-,  of  refined  and  sensitive 
nature,  modest  even  to  a  fault.  As  a  Christian  he  was 
one  of  the  most  simple,  childlike  and  Christlike  I  have 
ever  known.  His  prayers,  while  couched  in  the  choicest 
language,  breathed  a  childlike  simplicity  and  faith 
which  bespoke  a  spirit  in  close  communion  with  his 
Heavenly  Father.  As  a  friend,  though  naturally  re- 
served and  not  always  easy  of  access,  when  once  his 
confidence  was  thoroughly  won,  he  was  perfectly  re- 
liable, and  would  gradually,  like  the  dawn  of  day 
spreading  over  the  horizon,  yield  a  wealth  of  intellec- 
tual, social,  and  spiritual  pleasure  to  those  permitted  to 
enjoy  it,  seldom  found  in  this  imperfect  world."  Those 
who  knew  Dr.  Evans  will  appreciate  the  justness  of  this 
description.  To  those  who  knew  him  not,  it  may 
faintly  outline  what  he  was  to  those  who  were  admitted 
to  his  friendship.  And  what  he  was  in  after  life,  he 
was  already  as  a  student.  His  character  was  made 
broader  and  richer  by  the  experience  of  years.  But 
the  foundations  were  there  in  the  early  time. 

With  deep  and  earnest  piety,  high  intellectual  qualifi- 
cations, and  broad  and  thorough  scholarship,  was  united 
intense,  practical  interest  in  every  good  work.  The  the- 
ological student  took  an  active  part  in  city  mission  work. 
He  was  helpful  in  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Associa- 
tion, and  assisted  in  the  Union  Bethel,  besides  aiding  in 
the  organization  of  the  Pilgrim  Mission.  In  the  latter 
part  of  his  course  he  was  often  invited  to  preach  in  the 
Lane  Seminary  Church.  The  church  was  organized  in 
connection  with  the  Seminary,  but  at  this  time  its  mem- 
bership consisted  largely  of  persons  not  connected  with 
the  Seminary.  At  the  close  of  his  Seminary  course 
(i860)  Dr.  Evans  was  called  to  the  pastorate  of  this 
church,  and  served  it  for  three  years.  He  had  declined 
a  call  to  the  Presbyterian  church  of  Newport,  Ky. 


26  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

What  Dr.  Evans  was  as  a  preacher  and  pastor,  only 
those  can  know  who  had  the  privilege  of  being  mem- 
bers of  his  charge.  He  had  the  highest  quahfications 
for  both  offices.  His  burning  rhetoric  may  be  faintly 
realized  from  his  printed  discourses.  For,  after  all,  the 
living  voice  is  necessary  to  render  the  full  effect  of  such 
addresses.  No  one  who  heard  him  at  this  time  will 
ever  forget  the  impassioned  wealth  of  his  language, 
poured  forth  with  an  ardor  that  made  the  listener  hold 
his  breath  as  he  tried  to  follow.  The  "lightning-like 
rapidity  of  his  delivery,"  of  which  one  of  his  classmates 
has  spoken,  was  the  natural  expression  of  a  soul  on  fire 
with  zeal  for  the  truth.  As  time  went  on  he  was  com- 
pelled to  moderate  the  speed  with  which  he  spoke,  be- 
cause physically  it  was  too  exhausting.  But  to  those 
who  heard  him  in  the  earlier  time,  it  was  a  keen  de- 
light to  follow  this  outpouring  of  thoughts  that  breathed 
in  words  that  burned.  It  is  related  of  him  that  when 
he  preached  his  first  sermon  before  the  class,  some  of 
the  students  were  disposed  to  criticize.  But  the  Pro- 
fessor of  Sacred  Rhetoric,  Dr.  Henry  Smith,  one  of 
the  first  of  American  preachers,  said:  "Young  gentle- 
men, there  is  no  criticism  to  be  made  on  that  sermon." 
Those  who  knew  the  height  of  Dr.  Smith's  ideal  and 
the  reserve  of  his  utterance,  will  find  that  sentence 
higher  praise  than  the  laudation  of  thousands.  As  for 
his  pastoral  qualifications,  we  have  already  seen  the 
sympathy  of  his  nature,  one  of  the  first  essentials  to 
true  pastoral  efficiency.  His  ideal  is  well  set  before  us 
by  himself  in  a  sermon  commemorative  of  his  beloved 
friend  Dr.  O.  A.  Lyman.*  "The  life  of  Christ's  true 
servant  is  a  life  in  earnest,  a  life  of  earnest  striving,  of 
soldierly  courage,  patience  and   perseverance.      It  is  a 

*  Preached     in     the    EucUd    Avenue    Church,     Cleveland, 
March,  1872. 


THEOLOGY  AND  PREACHING.  2/ 

life  of  faithful  adherence  to  the  line  of  duty  enjoined  by 
conscience.  It  is  a  life  of  power,  a  power  born  of  earn- 
estness and  fidelity,  a  power  with  which  Christ  himself 
invests  his  servant,  a  power  which  in  its  measure  over- 
comes the  power  of  evil  in  the  world,  a  power  which  all 
recognize  as  the  power  of  holiness,  of  truth,  of  Christ. 
It  is  a  spiritual  force,  charged  with  electric  energy  to 
wither  corruption,  to  blast  error,  to  shiver  wrong,  to 
startle  consciences,  to  quicken  souls,  to  inspire  Christian 
manhood.  It  is  a  life  which  to  live  is  to  be  a  king  of 
men,  a  royal  shepherd  of  souls,  a  spiritual  leader,  wisely 
guiding,  strongly  drawing  men  after  himself.  It  is  no 
less  a  life  of  quiet,  gentle  beauty,  winning,  persuasive, 
pure  as  one  of  heaven's  glistening  gems,  shedding  in  its 
serene  light  a  holy  benediction,  a  life  such  as  that 
mediaeval  saint  must  have  lived  whose  name  won  for 
itself  the  addition  "Mild  as  the  evening  star."  Or  it 
is  a  life  which  wears  on  its  brow  the  morning  star,  full 
of  glad  promise,  its  pure  radiance  preluding  the  heav- 
enly dawn,  a  morning  Evangel  of  that  holy  light  which 
shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day.  It  is  a 
life  which  breathes  hope  and  joy,  the  courage  of  princi- 
ple, the  enthusiasm  of  duty,  the  magnetic  might  of 
faith.  It  is  a  life,  in  fine,  in  which  the  power  of  Christ  is 
felt  to  be  working,  on  which  the  glory  of  Christ  is  seen 
to  be  resting,  through  which  the  sceptre  of  Christ  is 
reaching  forth  to  rule  the  world,  to  sway  its  thoughts 
and  convictions  and  character,  by  which  the  cross  of 
Christ  is  uplifted  and  glorified  to  the  healing  of  earth's 
maladies,  out  of  which  the  spirit  of  Christ  goes  forth 
with  divine  creative  and  assimilative  energy,  a  life — 

Where  only  Christ  is  heard  to  speak, 
Where  Jesus  reigns  alone." 


28  LLEWELYN  10 AN    EVANS. 

The  thought  so  eloquently  expressed  here  is  that  the 
minister  preaches  the  truth  by  embodying  the  truth  in 
his  life,  bringing  it  home  to  his  people  in  his  social  in- 
tercourse as  in  the  pulpit. 

Dr.  Evans'  social  qualities,  and  especially  the  wit  and 
humor  which  enlivened  every  circle  in  which  he  moved, 
will  claim  our  attention  later.  Just  now  I  wish  to  no- 
tice the  fact  that  his  service  of  the  Lane  Seminary 
Church  came  at  the  time  when  the  nation  was  called 
upon  to  undertake  the  war  for  the  Union,  Dr.  Evans' 
sympathies  were  altogether  on  the  side  of  the  Union. 
His  heart,  like  that  of  every  patriot,  urged  him  to  enter 
the  army.  But  men  were  needed  at  home  as  well  as  at 
the  front,  and  he  saw  that  great  interests  would  be  sacri- 
ficed were  he  to  abandon  the  post  in  which  Providence 
had  placed  him.  In  1861  (October)  he  was  offered  the 
chaplaincy  of  the  eighteenth  regiment,  then  recruiting 
at  Columbus.  The  offer  was  a  tempting  one.  But  there 
were  many  things  to  be  considered.  His  position  as  pas- 
tor was  important  to  a  growing  church  ;  at  the  same 
time  he  was  already  a  help  to  the  seminary,  which 
needed  all  the  resources  within  its  reach.  In  fact,  not 
long  after  this  time  he  began  to  deliver  lectures  to  the 
students  of  the  seminary.  It  should  be  noted  that  the 
pecuniary  compensation  of  the  chaplaincy  was  consider- 
ably above  what  he  was  receiving  as  pastor.  We  can 
realize  how  youthful  ardor,  public  opinion,  the  needs  of 
the  country,  the  good  of  the  soldier,  would  plead  for 
the  army.  But  after  careful  consideration  he  declined 
the  call.  There  was  work  to  be  done  at  home.  In  this 
exciting  period  Dr.  Evans  was  foremost  among  those 
who  sustained  the  courage  of  the  people.  In  the  dark- 
est hours  he  never  lost  heart.  His  faith  saw  that  the 
outcome  was  certain,  though  it  might  be  at  the  cost  of 
struggle  and  suffering.     Every  movement  for  the  good 


THEOLOGY  AND  PREACHING.  29 

of  the  soldier  had  his  hearty  support.  As  he  was  not 
able  to  give  largely  from  his  salary,  he  delivered  lectures, 
the  proceeds  of  which  went  to  the  Christian  Commis- 
sion. The  chief  of  these  (on  John  Milton,  the  patriot,) 
is  still  remembered  as  a  masterpiece.  In  general,  it 
may  be  said  here,  few  men  have  been  less  moved  by 
pecuniary  considerations  than  was  our  friend.  He  fre- 
quently declined  invitations  that  would  have  given  him 
an  income  more  adequate  to  the  wants  of  a  cultivated 
man  and  a  student,  than  the  one  he  actually  received. 
His  salary,  when  called  to  a  professorship  in  the  semi- 
nary, was  one  thousand  dollars  per  annum.  Although 
doing  the  full  work  of  a  professor  (and  often  more  than 
that)  he  did  not  receive  the  same  salary  with  other 
members  of  the  faculty  until  1874.  The  reason  for  this 
was  the  financial  need  of  the  institution.  It  is  men- 
tioned here  not  as  a  reproach  to  the  institution,  which, 
of  course,  was  obliged  to  live  on  what  it  had,  but  as 
showing  the  unselfishness  of  the  man.  This  unselfish- 
ness showed  itself  constantly  in  his  readiness  to  help 
enterprises  which  could  not  give  adequate  compensation 
for  service  rendered.  His  lectures  were  always  deliv- 
ered for  the  benefit  of  some  good  cause.  He  preached 
much  (after  entering  upon  his  work  as  professor)  for 
small  or  recently  organized  churches,  and  took  much 
interest  in  their  growth.  For  many  years  prior  to  the 
annexation  of  the  village  of  Walnut  Hills  to  the  city  of 
Cincinnati,  he  was  a  member  of  the  Board  of  Public 
Schools,  and  served  with  great  efficiency  as  their  clerk 
and  examiner.      But  this  is  anticipating. 

In  1863  Mr.  Evans  was  elected  Professor  of  Church 
History  in  Lane  Seminary.  He  had  given  lectures  in 
that  department  some  time  before,  in  connection  with 
his  pastoral  work.  Dr.  Smith  had  been  called  to  a 
charge  in  Buffalo,  so  that  the  seminary  was  inadequately 


30  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

manned,  even  in  comparison  with  what  it  had  been. 
This  chair  Dr.  Evans  filled  with  great  acceptance,  and 
his  brilliant  lectures  are  still  remembered  by  some  of 
the  people  of  Walnut  Hills  who  were  permitted  to  hear 
them.  It  was  soon  after  his  appointment  that  the  New 
School  General  Assembly  met  at  Dayton,  Ohio  (1S64). 
Dr.  Evans  was  not  a  member  of  the  Assembly,  but  was 
an  interested  spectator.  Sunday  evening  after  the  open- 
ing of  the  Assembly  Dr.  Howard  Crosby  preached  a 
sermon  on  the  text :  ' '  Blessed  are  they  that  do  his  com- 
mandments, that  they  may  have  right  to  the  tree  of 
hfe,  and  may  enter  in  through  the  gates  into  the  city." 
This  sermon  made  a  profound  impression  upon  all  who 
heard  it,  among  whom  was  the  young  professor.  Un- 
der its  inspiration  he  prepared  an  address  on  John  Cal- 
vin which  made  him  widely  known  in  the  New  School 
body.  The  occasion  was  on  this  wise :  the  General 
Assembly  resolved  to  observe  the  Tercentenary  of  the 
death  of  Calvin,  which  came  during  its  sessions.  Dr. 
Allen  was  appointed  one  of  the  speakers.  But  being 
prevented  from  taking  part,  he  had  Professor  Evans 
appointed  in  his  place.  That  the  Professor  (then  not 
thirty-one)  was  comparatively  unknown  in  the  denomi- 
nation may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  the  committee 
announced  him  as  "a  professor  in  Lane  Seminary," 
while  they  did  not  find  it  necessary  to  describe  any  of 
the  other  speakers.  After  the  address,  which  was  in 
the  Professor's  most  brilliant  vein,  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
the  speaker  was  no  longer  unknown.  He  may  be  said 
to  have  won  his  spurs  on  this  occasion.  Henceforth  his 
friends  had  a  right  to  number  him  among  the  leaders  of 
his  denomination. 


III. 

EXEGESIS. 

In  the  year  1867  the  chair  of  Biblical  Literature  be- 
came vacant,  and  Dr.  Evans  was  transferred  to  that 
department,  having  already  given  some  instruction  in 
it.  This  was  to  be  his  life  work.  For  some  years  he 
had  both  the  Old  and  New  Testament  work.  In  1871 
the  chair  was  divided,  and  Dr.  Evans  took  the  division 
of  Hebrew  and  Old  Testament  Exegesis,  the  New  Testa- 
ment being  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Thomas 
E.  Thomas.  At  the  death  of  Dr.  Thomas  (1875),  Dr. 
Evans  was  transferred  to  the  New  Testament  depart- 
ment, which  he  retained  until  his  death.  For  just  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  therefore,  he  was  allowed  to  de- 
vote his  energies  to  the  study  and  exposition  of  the 
Word  of  God.  In  this  work  he  showed  the  same  self- 
denying  zeal  which  had  characterized  his  earlier  career. 
Repeatedly  he  assumed  extra  work  and  cheerfully  per- 
formed it,  even  at  the  cost  of  cherished  plans  of  his 
own.  Thus  during  Dr.  Thomas'  illness  and  for  some 
months  after  his  death  he  carried  the  work  of  both 
chairs.  When  I  became  Instructor  in  Hebrew  Dr. 
Evans  carried  the  advanced  work  in  both  languages. 
After  the  death  of  Dr.  Smith  he  took  a  part  of  the 
homiletical  work,  and  similarly  in  the  case  of  Dr.  Hum- 
phrey and  Dr.  Eells, 

(31) 


32  LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 

Probably  there  have  been  few    better    instructors  in 
Biblical  learning.     Professor  Evans  had  had  no  advant- 
ages for  special  study.     But  he  had  a  taste  for  research, 
fine  linguistic  talents,   a  deep   love  for  spiritual  truth, 
enthusiasm  for  literature,  and  sympathy  with  inquiring 
minds.      By  his  own  almost  unaided    exertions   he  ac- 
quired an   extensive  knowledge   of   German    thought. 
He   followed    the   course    of   theological   inquiry   with 
keen  interest.      Having  made  Greek  and   Hebrew    his 
special  objects  of  study,  he  was  indefatigable  in  work- 
ing out  their  problems.      He  was  never  satisfied  with  a 
single  commentator's  solution  of  a  difficulty,  nor  even 
with  the  consensus  of  the  scholars.      He  could  rest  with 
nothing  short  of  all  the  light  that  could  be  had,  and  for 
this  light  he  searched  not  only  the  commentaries,  but 
the  lexicons,    the  versions,   the   parallel   passages.     It 
was,  perhaps,  his  experience  in  searching  out  the  deep 
things  of  God  that  led  to  his  talk  on  **the  Preacher  as 
a  Seeker  or  Inquirer,"  of  which  an  outline  is  still  pre- 
served.    The  theme  is  introduced  by  the  remark  of  a 
minister:    "I  am  always  sure  of  one  anxious  inquirer: 
If  there  be  none  in  the  pews  I  know  of  one  in  the  pul- 
pit."    To  this  Dr.   Evans  adds:    "The  preacher  is  or 
should  be  in  a  high  and  important  sense  an  inquirer." 
He  then  points  out  that  the  term  inquirer  has  a  correl- 
ative.      The    seeker    seeks    something,    an    object    is 
before   him,   and   this   in  the   case  of  the  preacher  is : 
that  knowledge  or  experience  of  Christian  truth  which 
leads  to  complete   Christian  manhood.       He  then   dis- 
cusses the  attitude  of  the  inquirer  for  truth.     He  dis- 
tinctly rejects  the  position  that  we  must  start  without 
prepossessions.       Yet   he    would    have    prejudice    put 
aside — "all  behef  that  is  merely  traditional,   all  which 
has   not   already   commended    itself   on    the   best    evi- 
dence."    By  laying  aside  these  the  seeker  becomes  as 


EXEGESIS.  33 

a  little  child.  "But  he  who  does  become  as  a  little 
child  ejiters  the  kingdom.  He  does  not  stand  forever 
at  the  door.  The  progress  of  the  theological  seeker  is 
not  from  one  negation  to  another,  not  from  doubt  to 
doubt,  but  from  faith  to  faith The  com- 
plement of  seeking  is  finding.  .  .  .  To  seek  for- 
ever without  finding  would  be  an  eternal  delirium." 
Hence  he  gathers  the  characteristic  marks  of  a  Chris- 
tian seeker:  "  (i)  To  have  the  spirit  and  disposition  of 
a  true  disciple;  to  recognize  the  true  value  of  divine 
truth ;  to  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness.  (2) 
To  exercise  the  requisite  activity ;  to  meet  the  advances 
of  God's  Spirit ;  to  obey  his  suggestions ;  and  to  recog- 
nize the  law  of  progress  in  spiritual  culture;  to  seek 
that  he  may  find.  (3)  Thus  to  avoid  the  faults  of  {a) 
stagnation,  (^)  self  complacency,  {c)  narrowness  and 
dogmatism."  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  this  fine  ad- 
dress is  not  preserved  to  us  complete.  Enough  re- 
mains to  note  (further)  the  author's  conception  of  the 
Bible  as  the  source  of  truth:  "The  material  of  truth 
is  fact,  i.  e.  reality.  The  great  question  the  seeker 
proposes  is:  what  is  the  reality  of  being?  Now  have 
you  ever  thought  that  the  Bible  is  almost  altogether  a 
book  of  facts?  The  largest  portion  of  it,  to  begin 
with,  is  history — the  record  of  what  has  been.  Then 
comes  poetry,  and  poetry  is  a  record  of  psychological 
facts,  experimental  facts,  the  history  of  souls.  Job, 
Ecclesiastes,  the  Psalms  are  not  surpassed  [in  this 
respect]  by  Sophocles  or  Shakspeare.  Prophecy  is 
what  ?  Largely  a  recognition  of  existing  facts,  social, 
moral,  religioivs ;  for  the  remainder,  an  anticipation  of 
future  facts.  Even  a  didactic- book  like  Proverbs  is  a 
source  of  facts.  Hence  our  search  is  first  a  search  for 
facts,  next  a  search  for  the  significance  of  the  facts — 
we  must  find   the  soul  of  each.     ,     ,     .     This  is  not 


34  LLKWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

all.  Wc  are  to  learn  their  relations.  The  facts  and 
realities  of  revelation  are  not  like  a  string  of  pearls, 
but  like  a  network,  interlacing,  dependent,  or  rather 
they  are  all  a  spiritual  body,  an  organic  vv^hole,  mem- 
bers without  number  but  all  one  body." 

It  was  with  such  conceptions  of  the  seeker  and  his 
object  that  Dr.  Evans  carried  on  his  work.  The  v/ork 
of  the  student  is  to  search  for  the  truth.  But  a  further 
consideration  had  great  weight  with  him.  The  truth 
gained  by  the  theological  student  is  a  means  to  an  end 
and  this  end  is  the  good  of  others.  Not  to  gain  the 
truth  simply  for  one's  own  edification,  but  to  proclaim 
it  for  the  good  of  others — this  is  the  real  aim  of  theo- 
logical study.  This  practical  aim  was  always  promi- 
nently before  Prof.  Evans.  His  paper  on  an  ' '  Evan- 
gelistic Theology"  is  sufficient  evidence  of  this 
statement.  And  even  more  explicitly  he  affirms  it  in 
his  addresses  on  the  Faculty  of  Lane  (delivered  at  the 
opening  of  Seminary  Hall,  December  i8,  1879)  ^^^  ^^ 
the  Life  and  Work  of  Prof.  Stowe  (read  before  the 
Lane  Club,  December  14,1886).  His  thorough  appre- 
ciation of  the  spirit  of  the  Seminary  can  be  shown  by 
a  quotation  from  the  former  of  these  papers : 

"The  leading  characteristic  of  the  old  Faculty  of 
Lane,  that  which  gave  to  its  members  their  unity  and 
vitality,  was  their  evangelistic  spirit.  They  were  men 
in  whom  the  Great  Commission  was  as  fire  in  their 
bones.  The  Redeemer's  kingdom  of  grace  and  glory, 
the  majesty,  the  power,  the  triumph  of  that  kingdom — 
this  was  the  vision  which    enraptured    and    energized 

their  souls Would  it  be  too  much  to  hope  that, 

through  such  seraph  souls,  Lane  Seminary  has  been 
harnessed  to  the  chariot  of  Christ,  yoked  forever  to  the 
thought  '  Christ  for  the  world,  the  world  for  Christ  ?  ' 

"This  seems  to  be  the  proper  place  to  emphasize 
the  revival  spirit  which  so  eminently  characterized  the 
early  Faculty.     The  Faculty  records  show  that  in  1839, 


EXEGESIS.  35 

in  the  very  midst  of  the  throes  which  accompanied  the 
rending-  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  twain,  the  topics 
of  the  Faculty  conference  witli  students  for  five  weeks 

in  succession,  aU  centered  in  the  idea  of  a  revival 

This  intense  evangelism  and  revivalism  found  practical 
expression  in  the  earnest  endeavor  and  purpose  of  those 
men  to  train  their  students,  above  all  else,  to  be 
preachers.  They  did  not  disparage  scholastic  attain- 
ments ;  they  did  not  depreciate  theological  culture ;  but 
with  them  the  crown  of  all  theological  acquisition  and 
discipline  was  power  in  preaching  —  preaching  so  as  to 
save  souls.  Dr.  Allen  has  said  of  Dr.  Beecher  in 
words  v/hich  indicate  his  own  conception  of  what  is  the 
grand  aim  of  theological  instruction :  '  the  truths  he 
discussed  became  living  truths,  truths  to  be  loved  and 
lived  and  preached ;  lively  stones  in  God's  spiritual 
house,  which  would  illuminate  and  animate  everything 
they  could  touch,  and  not  bones  of  a  skeleton  to  be 
fastened  together  with  wires,  and  hung  up  to  show  how 
complete  a  theological  system  can  be  and  how  cold  it 
can  be  too. '  And  the  same  may  be  said  [continues 
Dr.  Evans]  of  all  that  earlier  Faculty  from  Beecher, 
with  whom  the  grandest  thing  was  to  save  souls,  down 
to  Smith,  with  whom  a  true  sermon  was  the  highest 
work  of   art,  and    the    pulpit   the    most   commanding 

pedestal  of  mental  and  spiritual  greatness They 

were,  moreover,  thoroughly  practical  men.  They  were 
far  indeed,  from  favoring  the  superficial  cant  of  a  prac- 
tical culture  which  disregards  thorough  drill  in  the 
essentials  of  Christian  scholarship  and  thorough  ground- 
ing in  the  fundamentals  of  Christian  doctrine.  It  was, 
indeed,  precisely  to  counteract  such  pseudo-practicalism 
that  they  gave  themselves  up  so  heartily  and  zealously 
to  the  business  of  theological  education  in  the  West. 
But  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word  they  were  thoroughly 
practical  men.  They  did  not  deal  in  hair-splitting 
dialectics,  in  mere  speculative  subtleties,  in  infra-micro- 
scopic infinitesimals.  For  them  Truth  was  Life.  .  .  .  Nor 
must  we  omit  to  record  their  catholicity  of  spirit.  What 
Bishop  Mclvaine  said  of  Dr.  Biggs,  might  be  said  of 
each  of  them :    *  A  beautiful  trait  in  his  character  was 


36  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

the  largeness  of  his  Christian  regards.'  They  believed 
in  a  spiritual  Christianity;  they  took  large  interior 
views  of  its  truths  and  forces.  They  came  here  not  to 
tithe  sectarian  mint,  or  ecclesiastical  anise,  or  theo- 
logical cummin  ;  they  came  to  magnify  the  essentials 
of  Christianity. 

"This  earnest  endeavor  of  the  early  Faculty  of  Lane 
to  bring  their  teachings  into  contact  with  the  living 
wants  of  the  world  finds  another  expression  in  their 
progressive  spirit.  While  firmly  planting  themselves  on 
the  Reformed  theology  as  '  containing  unquestionably 
the  system  of  doctrine  taught  in  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
and  standing  through  ages  against  the  encroachments 
of  error,  as  the  iron-bound  shores  to  the  ocean,'  they 
sought  at  the  same  time  to  occupy  those  points  of  view 
which  made  more  clear  the  adaptation  of  Christian  truth 
to  the  exigencies  of  the  day  in  which  we  live.  Clearly 
discriminating  between  human  philosophies  and  the  di- 
vine Word,  as  factors  of  Christian  thought,  they  sought 
to  unfold  the  system  of  doctrine,  as  it  is  to  be  found 
clothed  and  beautified  and  inspired  with  life,  as  it  exists 
and  operates  in  the  Word  of  God." 

The  warmth  with  which  the  author  dilates  upon  these 
various  qualifications  of  the  early  professors  shows  that 
he  was  strongly  in  sympathy  with  them.  The  appreci- 
ation of  their  devotion,  their  manliness,  their  thorough 
scholarship,  their  practical  aim,  their  progressive  spirit, 
which  is  shown  in  his  eulogy,  arose  from  a  kindred  dis- 
position and  kindred  aspirations  in  his  own  heart.  In 
truth.  Professor  Evans  was  not  behind  any  of  those  no- 
ble men.  Without  exaggeration  we  may  apply  to  him 
what  he  said  of  Professor  Stowe:  "This  rare  combina- 
tion of  gifts  he  consecrated  to  the  service  of  religion  in 
what  was  for  him  the  great  business  of  his  life — advan- 
cing the  true  interpretation  of  the  Word  of  God  in  the 
ministry,  in  the  church,  and  in  the  world.  This  was  his 
preeminent  mission.  It  was  the  passion  of  his  being. 
For  it  he  was  richly  endowed  with  scholarship,  genius, 


EXEGESIS.  37 

aptness  to  teach,  enthusiasm,  and,  above  all,  supreme 
love  for  the  Bible.  Of  his  statement  and  practice  of  the 
principles  of  interpretation,  I  must  content  myself  now 
with  saying  that  he  was  sound,  sober,  conservative ;  at 
the  same  time  he  was  broad,  progressive,  fearless,  open 
to  the  light ;  indeed,  eager  for  the  light  which,  with  the 
Puritan  Robinson,  he  believed  is  yet  to  break  forth  from 
the  Word  of  God  and  'will  continue  to  increase  until  the 
time  of  the  end, '  He  believed  in  exegesis,  not  eisegesis ; 
in  inductive,  not  a  priori  exegesis ;  in  the  exegesis  of 
the  spirit,  as  deeper  and  truer  than  that  of  the  letter." 

What  Dr.  Evans  was  in  the  class-room  and  in  the 
services  of  the  Seminary  may  be  gathered  from  what 
has  now  been  seen  of  his  attitude  towards  the  Script- 
ures. His  pupils  never  had  any  doubt  that  the  text 
they  were  studying  was  to  him  the  authoritative  Word 
of  God.  His  personal  reverence  for  it  was  evident  in 
all  his  handling  of  it.  It  was  the  man  of  his  counsel, 
the  light  of  his  path.  It  would  not  be  too  much  for 
him  to  say  with  the  Psalmist:  "How  sweet  are  thy 
words  unto  my  taste !  Yea,  sweeter  than  honey  to  my 
mouth  !  "  The  result  was  a  rare  familiarity  with  the  Bi- 
ble, and  this  not  merely  with  the  English  version,  but 
with  the  meaning  and  force  of  the  original.  His  public 
reading  of  the  New  Testament  was  an  evidence  of  this. 
By  inflection  and  emphasis  he  put  into  the  well-known 
words  new  life  and  beauty  and  power.  What  he  said 
about  the  practical  aim  of  the  Lane  professors  was  emi- 
nently true  of  himself.  Any  question  by  a  student  as 
to  the  application  of  a  text  was  met  with  sympathy, 
and  answered  with  interest.  Towards  the  student  in 
need  of  help  he  showed  the  friendliness  noted  by  his 
classmate  in  a  passage  quoted  above.  The  dull  or  dis- 
couraged were  never  repulsed  or  even  sharply  brought 
up  by  him.     He  seemed  to  have  an  instinctive  appreci- 


38  LLEWELYN    lOAN   EVANS. 

atlon  of  the  difficulties  of  his  pupils,  he  entered  into 
these  difficulties,  he  understood  the  point  of  view  of 
the  inquirer,  and,  starting  from  that  common  point,  led 
him  to  the  higher  and  broader  outlook.  He  had  a  gen- 
uine affection  for  his  pupils,  and  followed  their  course 
both  in  the  Seminary  and  out  of  it  as  only  a  genuine 
teacher  can. 

In  connection  with  his  work  as  professor,  he  was  able 
to  instruct  a  wide  circle  through  the  press.  He  was 
invited  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Schaff,  editor  of  the  great 
Lange  Commentary,  to  prepare  for  the  press  the 
volume  on  Job  in  that  series.  The  volume  which 
appeared  in  1874  was  much  more  than  a  simple 
translation  of  the  German.  It  was  enriched  by  notes 
from  many  sources,  and  showed  the  translator's  famil- 
iarity with  the  literature  of  the  subject.  He  supple- 
mented the  introduction  also  by  a  discussion  of  his  own 
on  the  authorship  of  the  book.  This  discussion,  headed 
"Was  Hezekiah  the  author  of  Job?"  is  an  acute 
comparison  of  the  literary  character  of  Job  with  the 
psalm  of  Hezekiah  in  Isaiah  xxxviii,  and  with  the 
historical  notices  of  that  king  found  in  other  books. 
The  material  in  hand  is  not  sufficient  in  quantity  to 
make  the  argument  decisive.  But  it  must  be  said  that 
the  American  editor,  in  attributing  the  book  to  Heze- 
kiah, was  much  nearer  the  right  date  than  his  German 
original,  which  placed  it  in  the  age  of  Solomon.  The 
commentary  was  welcomed  by  Dr.  Schaff  with  high 
praise,  and  he  immediately  invited  the  translator  to 
prepare  a  commentary  of  his  own  on  some  of  the 
books  where  he  found  the  German  volume  unsatisfac- 
tory. Dr.  Evans  accepted  this  invitation,  and  entered 
with  ardor  upon  the  work.  Scarcely  had  he  begun  his 
preparation,  however,  when  the  death  of  one  of  his 
colleagues  threw    extra    work    upon    him.     With   the 


EXEGESIS.  39 

loyalty  to  the  seminary  which  always  characterized 
him,  he  gave  up  all  outside  matters  to  do  double  work 
for  the  students. 

The  Presbyterian  Review,  founded  in  1881,  was 
always  an  object  of  interest  to  Dr.  Evans,  and  on  the 
death  of  Professor  James  Eells,  he  became  one  of  the 
associate  editors.  He  had  also  been  associated  with 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Day  in  conducting  the  Theological  Eclec- 
tic. Of  his  contributions  to  the  Presbyterian  Review, 
two  at  least  deserve  mention  here.  One  was  an  article 
on  the  Doctrinal  Significance  of  the  Revision  (of  the 
New  Testam_ent).  This  article,  which  appeared  in 
1883,  is  an  appreciative  estimate  of  the  Revisor's  work. 
It  reviews  the  changes  made  from  the  Authorized  Ver- 
sion under  the  several  heads :  Inspiration,  Revelation, 
the  Godhead,  Christology,  Pneumatology,  Anthropol- 
ogy, Soteriology  and  Eschatology.  Under  each  head 
the  changes  made  are  briefly  characterized  with  their 
implications,  abundant  references  being  given  in  the 
notes.  The  article  is  a  helpful  review  of  Dogmatic 
Theology,  with  an  indication  of  the  way  in  which  it 
ought  to  be  brought  nearer  to  Biblical  teaching.  It 
could  be  written  only  by  one  at  home  in  both  depart- 
ments, and  only  by  one  saturated  with  the  original 
language  of  the  New  Testament. 

The  second  contribution  I  will  mention,  is  an  editorial 
note,  published  in  1887,  on  the  Biblical  Doctrine  of  the 
Intermediate  State.  On  this,  which  the  author  rightly 
describes  as  one  of  the  most  difficult  as  well  as  one  of 
the  most  imperfectly  developed  departments  of  Biblical 
Theology,  we  have  here  a  model  discussion.  Appar- 
ently the  induction  is  complete  ;  no  important  passage 
is  overlooked.  The  treatment  is  genetic  and  historical. 
The  Old  Testament  rudiments  are  shown  in  their  sim- 
plicity, and  the  development  of   the    New  Testament 


40  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

doctrine  is  shown  to  proceed  from  this  basis.  The 
largeness  of  the  New  Testament  doctrine  is  given 
without  dogmatic  forcing.  Sobriety  of  judgment  is 
combined  with  beheving  acceptance  of  what  is  revealed, 
and  resting  in  what  is  revealed.  The  article  makes  us 
regret  that  the  author  had  not  given  us  a  complete 
Biblical  Theology. 

Of  late  years  his  attention  was  more  and  more 
drawn  to  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans.  He  read  it 
regularly  with  one  of  his  classes  and  prepared  extended 
outUncs  of  a  commentary  for  their  use.  The  purpose 
to  publish  a  commentary  on  it  was  formed  some  years 
ago,  and  one  of  the  attractions  in  the  call  to  Wales 
was  that  it  seemed  to  promise  him  a  time  free  from 
interruptions  in  which  to  complete  this  great  work. 
He  once  said  to  me :  "I  want  to  get  at  the  thoughts 
of  the  Apostle  as  they  lay  in  his  mind."  With  this 
end  in  view  he  had  of  late  years  paid  especial  attention 
to  Jewish  theology,  hoping  to  understand  the  thoughts 
of  Paul  the  Pharisee,  as  the  Pharisees  of  the  first  cen- 
tury would  have  understood  them.  When  it  was 
laughingly  said  to  him  that  the  commentators  get 
more  things  out  of  Paul's  language  than  are  there,  he 
replied  with  great  earnestness:  "I  once  thought  so, 
but  the  more  I  study  his  language  the  more  I  find  in 
it."  As  an  illustration  of  his  method  in  bringing  out 
the  thought  of  the  text,  I  will  quote  a  fragment  on 
Rom.  V,  7 : 

"  For   [illustrative]   hardly    [a   difficult   thing  to 
^"conu^u?"       suppose  or  do]  will   any  one  die  [future  of  proba- 
bility] in  behalf  of  a  righteous  man  [double  con- 
trast  of   (^'iKdinq.    I.    with   aaefir/r  preceding:  2.  with 
uyaOSc  following  ;  6iKaio^  here  a  man  whose  strict  in- 
The  maximum     tegrity  rather  than   generosity   is   the  conspicuous 
of  human         feature  of  his  character  ; — with  difficulty  I  say]  for 
[justifying   fi6?ur ;  something  more  than  blameless- 
ness  is  needed  to  call  out  any  such  sacrifice  in  be- 
half   of   another    among   men]    in    behalf    of  the 


lore. 


EXEGESIS.  41 

[ideally  rov']  good  man  [whose  nobleness  aud  mag- 
nanimity inspire  personal  devotion]  one  does  [pfes- 
e7tt  indicative :  such  a  case  is  not  unknown  ;  one 
does  now  and  then,  here  or  there]  peradventure 
[after  all  such  a  case  is  a  possibility  rather  than  a 
probability]  even  muster  courage  to  die. 

But  [contrasting  the  unicum  of  Divine  Love  xhe  unicum  of 
with  the  maximum  of  human  love]  God  sets  forth  divine  love, 
[putting  one  thing  with,  beside  another,  so  as  to  set 
forth  the  former]  HIS  OWN  [spontaneous,  proceed- 
ing from  Himself,  worthy  of  Himself]  love  towards 
us  in  that  while  we  were  as  yet  [prior  to  the  inter- 
position of  Divine  Love]  sinners  [not  ayadoi,  not 
even  S'lKaioL]  Christ  died  for  us  [N.  B.  Christ's  dying 
for  us  setting  forth  God's  love]." 

It  must  be  remembered  that  this  is  a  mere  outline 
intended  for  the  guidance  of  the  student.  In  the  class- 
room it  was  supplemented  by  the  personal  instruction 
of  the  author — an  instruction  vivified  by  intense  love 
for  the  sacred  Word,  and  glowing  with  a  passion  for 
the  truth.  The  author's  broadly  sympathetic  view  of 
the  Apostle  Paul  may  be  gathered  from  an  outline 
sermon  on  Rom.  v,  17:  ("For  if  by  one  man's  offense 
death  reigned  by  one,"  etc.)  from  which  the  follow- 
ing is  taken : 

"This  chapter  is  the  scene  of  a  thousand  pitched 
battles.  Here  the  theological  war  horses  snuff  the 
battle  and  prick  up  their  ears — the  Fathers,  the  School- 
men, the  Reformers,  the  Puritans,  the  Divines,  the 
Commentators.  The  contest  has  raged  about  particles, 
clauses,  grammar,  logic.  The  Divine  Fire  has  been 
parsed  out,  the  Divine  Life  has  been  criticized  and 
dissected.  It  has  been  the  misfortune  of  the  world  to 
be  visited  with  literal,  prosaic,  onesided  minds,  incapa- 
ble of  more  than  one  thought,  incapable  of  appre- 
ciating the  high  thoughts  of  others.  .  .  ,  And  it 
has  been  the  misfortune  of  ardent  enthusiastic  souls  to 
fall  victims  to  such.  Often  one  of  the  narrow,  one- 
sided, undertakes  to  measure  the  large,  manysided. 
Sometimes  the  glov/ing  melting  inspirations  of  the 
poet  (like  David  or  Isaiah)  are  frozen  into  abstract 
formulas  [by  such  a  course].     The  burning  utterances 


42  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS, 

of  a  seraphic  soul  (like  Paul  or  John)  are  parsed  dry 
and  dead  like  an  Egyptian  mummy ;  and  there  are 
those  who  (like  the  watchmaker)  put  on  magnifying 
glasses  and  try  to  pick  out  grammatical  errors  in  the 
songs  of  heaven. 

"It  is  often  the  case  that  a  man's  greatest  enemy  is 
his  own  reputation.  If  he  have  the  reputation  of  a 
'  wit '  he  cannot  say  anything  serious  without  making 
people  laugh.  If  he  have  the  reputation  of  an  '  en- 
thusiast' he  cannot  propose  anything  practical  without 
having  it  called  visionary.  If  he  have  the  reputation 
of  being  '  matter  of  fact, '  he  cannot  utter  anything 
elevated  without  giving  rise  to  the  fear  that  he  is 
insane.  It  has  been  the  fate  of  Paul  to  bear  the 
reputation  of  a  logician.  Such,  no  doubt  he  was.  But, 
was  he  nothing  else?  [It  is  forgotten]  that  he  was  full 
of  passion,  poetry,  fire.  And  when  cold,  unimpassioned, 
unimaginative,  literal  souls  examine  him,  they  see 
nothing  in  his  impassioned  appeals,  glowing  conceptions, 
poetic  personifications,  vehement  bursts  of  eulogy, 
lightning-like  flashes  and  transitions  of  thought,  but 
logic — a  chain  of  premises  and  conclusions;  a  string 
of  argumentative  hooks  and  eyes,  which  somehow  have 
sometimes  got  very  much  entangled.  No  wonder  that 
when  such  come  to  Romans  V.  they  cannot  agree. 
For  the  chapter  is  what?  Not  a  didactic  essay,  a 
theological  lecture,  a  dry  formula  like  the  Confession 
of  Faith  ;  but  a  hymn  of  joy,  a  psalm  of  thanksgiving. 
Of  course,  there  is  logic,  for  there  is  logic  in  all  true 
eloquence.  But  it  is  a  'logic  on  fire,'  as  different  from 
what  ordinarily  passes  for  logic,  as  the  train  of  powder 
dry  is  different  from  the  same  train  when  fired.  We 
cannot  analyze  it — it  analyzes  itself.  .  .  .  Regard  it  now 
as  a  hymn,  and  as  I  read  it  imagine  the  glorified  spirit 
of  Paul,  clothed  with  heavenly  radiance,  chanting  the 
praises  of  Christ's  redeeming  love,  to  thrill  with  courage 
and  joy  the  hearts  of  his  brethren  struggling  and  tried 
below." 

With  such  breadth  and  insight  did  our  Professor 
carry  on  the  study  of  the  Bible.  Nor  was  his  study 
confined  to  the  Epistle  to  the   Romans.      Among    his 


EXEGESIS.  43 

papers  are  extended  analyses  of  Ephesians,  Galatians, 
Hebrews  and  James,  besides  comparative  tables  of  lex- 
ical peculiarities  of  different  books,  discussions  of  in- 
dividual words,  of  hebraisms  in  the  New  Testament, 
and  of  points  in  introduction.  His  lectures  on  Her- 
meneutics  and  on  the  history  of  the  New  Testament 
text  were  frequently  re-written.  In  short,  his  papers 
give  evidence  of  constant  activity  in  his  department  as 
well  as  of  wide  literary,  philosophical  and  theological 
research.  In  connection  with  his  professorship  he  acted 
as  librarian  of  the  Seminary  for  some  years.  He  was 
also  an  active  member  of  the  Theological  and  Religious 
Library  Association,  of  Cincinnati,  during  the  whole 
of  his  connection  with  the  Seminary.  For  a  consider- 
able part  of  the  time  he  was  a  member  of  its  Execu- 
tive Committee.  His  wide  knowledge  of  literature  was 
of  especial  value  to  this  association.  He  touched 
literature  and  theology  thus  at  many  points.  Central 
to  them  all  was  his  knowledge  of  the  Bible  and  his 
interest  in  the  Bible. 


IV. 

HOME  AND  SOCIAL  LIFE. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  we  can  not  present  our  friends 
in  their  entirety — that  in  order  to  see  them  ourselves 
or  to  describe  them  to  others,  we  have  to  analyze 
them.  A  bill  of  particulars  is  not  a  picture,  much  less 
is  it  a  person.  But  a  bill  of  particulars  is  all  we  can 
present  in  a  biographical  sketch.  I  have  preferred  to 
say  what  I  had  to  say  of  my  friend's  character  as  a 
scholar  and  teacher  under  one  head,  reserving  some 
personal  traits  for  a  distinct  chapter.  The  manysided- 
ness  of  his  character  makes  it  necessary  that  we  should 
not,  in  considering  the  exegete,  forget    the  man. 

Of  sanguine  temper  and  abounding  humor,  Dr.  Evans 
was  retiring  in  disposition,  so  that  he  did  not  show  this 
side  of  his  character  at  all  times.  In  the  intimacy  of 
home  and  among  near  friends,  however,  he  showed 
inexhaustible  resources  both  of  wit  and  humor.  A  brief 
note  in  his  handwriting  gives  his  own  appreciation  of 
the  latter  endowment.  "No  man,"  he  says,  "can  be 
fully  and  thoroughly  and  always  wise,  without  humor. 
There  are  circumstances  when  it  is  only  the  keen  and 
vivid  perception  of  folly  which  humor  gives,  that  can 
save  a  man  from  being  foolish,  or,  what  is  quite  as  bad, 
ridiculous.       Hence,    humorless   men,    however    grave, 

sagacious,  learned,  have  often  been  guilty  of  absurdities 
(44) 


HOME    AND    SOCIAL    LIFE.  45 

which  amaze  us."  Those  who  knew  Dr.  Evans  as  a 
young  man  recall  the  almost  rollicking  enjoyment  with 
which  he  would  delight  the  social  circle,  keeping  them 
bubbling  over  by  his  infinitude  of  jests.  As  he  grew 
older  this  tendency  was  chastened,  but  his  appreciation 
of  fun  was  keen  to  the  last.  There  was,  however,  noth- 
ing malicious  in  his  merry-making,  and  it  is  doubtful 
whether  a  single  human  being  was  ever  hurt  by  what 
he  said. 

For  the  last  twenty-five  years  of  his  life  he  was  a 
member  of  a  social  and  literary  club  called  U.  C.  D.  A 
gentleman  who  was  associated  with  him  in  this  organ- 
ization from  its  beginning,  speaks  of  him  as  follows:* 

"He  brought  to  this  club  talents  of  the  highest  order, 
and  placed  his  training  as  a  teacher,  a  writer  and  a  critic 
at  its  service.  He  constantly  drew  from  the  rich  stores 
at  his  command,  rare  and  beautiful  things  for  its  enter- 
tainment. Early  in  his  membership  he  was  appointed 
secretary,  was  re-elected  year  after  year,  and  no  one 
was  found  willing  to  assume  the  place  when  he  vacated 
it.  His  minutes  at  once  became  the  prominent  feature 
of  each  meeting,  and  the  greatest  incentive  to  prompt 
attendance.  Any  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  a  little  late 
would  slip  into  a  convenient  chair,  or  rest  upon  the 
stairway  to  hear  him  before  retiring  to  remove  out-door 
wraps.  Each  record  presented  some  new  manifestation 
of  his  wonderful  versatility  as  a  writer.  He  never  con- 
fined himself  to  a  bare  recital  of  the  facts.  He  wove  into 
the  texture  by  way  of  background  just  enough  reference 
to  the  actual  events  of  a  meeting  to  identify  it,  and 
then  added  such  marvelous  creations  of  his  genius,  such 
irresistible  displays  of  wit,  such  rare  bits  of  pure,  gen- 
uine fun  and  such  evidences  of  scholarly  ability,  as  to 
make  of  the  whole  a  literary  production  of  very  unusual 
merit. 


*From  a  paper  read   before   the  Lane    Seminary   Club  by 
Thornton  M.  1 1  inkle,  Esq. 


46  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

"The  minutes  of  scientific  and  professional  bodies 
report  not  only  the  papers  read  to  them  but  also  the 
discussions  upon  them  which  follow.  Occasionally 
Prof.  Evans  would  supply  from  his  vivid  fancy  such  a 
discussion  to  supplement  his  references  to  papers  read 
to  the  club.  At  one  meeting  a  paper  was  read  upon 
American  birds  which  mentioned  the  fact  that  it  was 
the  male  bird  only  which  is  gifted  with  song  and  is 
clothed  with  the  most  beautiful  plumage.  He  closed 
a  brief  reference  to  it  by  stating  that  it  was  interesting 
not  only  in  what  it  said  but  in  what  it  suggested ;  that 
it  gave  rise  to  a  series  of  remarks  by  the  various 
husbands  in  the  company,  which  were  reported  some- 
what at  length  in  the  usual  style,  in  which  they  claimed 
analogies  and  drew  deductions  from  these  superior  en- 
dowments of  the  male  bird,  to  their  own  great  credit 
and  comfort,  and  to  the  poorly  suppressed  indignation 
and  confusion  of  their  wives.  The  discussion  was  very 
scientific,  very  funny,  and  altogether  imaginary. 

"  His  minutes  came  to  us  often  in  the  shape  of  poetry, 
either  blank  verse  or  rhyme,  with  frequent  imitations 
of  many  well  known  writers  who  prided  themselves 
upon  some  marked  peculiarity  of  style.  They  were 
instructive  as  well  as  amusing.  They  abounded  in 
references  to  current  matters  of  thought.  In  every  one 
of  them  were  casual  suggestions  which  often  *  proved 
the  key  to  open  unknown  apartments  in  the  palace 
of  truth '  and  '  unexplored  tracts  in  the  paradise  of 
sentiment  that  environs  it.' 

"I  cannot  recall  a  single  feature  of  the  life  or  the 
needs  of  such  a  club  in  which  he  was  not  in  some 
way  prominent,  or  to  which  he  did  not  contribute. 
He  adapted  himself  to  every  occasion.  He  was  prompt 
in  repartee  and  yet  never  cutting  or  unkind.  He  was 
always  cheerful  and  genial.  Social  life  was  for  him  a 
relaxation  from  the  cares  and  duties  of  his  profession. 
He  needed  rest  and  he  gave  himself  up  to  it  and  en- 
joyed it  with  the  zest  of  a  boy  on  his  holiday.  Yet 
he  fully  realized  that  there  is  work  to  be  done  even  in 
such  relaxation,  and  was  ever  ready  to  do  his  share 
and  more  in  order  to  contribute  to  the  general  pleasure. 


HOME    AND    SOCIAL    LIFE,  4/ 

I  think  he  enjoyed  fully  as  much  the  preparatory 
labor  involved  in  the  exercise  of  his  wonderful  powers, 
as  he  did  those  rare  occasions  when,  perhaps  a  little 
wearied  from  the  battles  and  toils  of  daily  life,  he  sat 
as  a  silent  listener.  .  .  .  He  was  an  excellent  actor,  and 
upon  occasion  took  a  leading  part  in  dramatic  repre- 
sentations. I  have  alluded  to  his  readiness  at  repartee. 
As  Carlyle  said  of  another:  'his  sparkling  sallies  bub- 
bled up  as  from  aerated  natural  fountains.'  His  vivid 
fancy,  well  stored  memory  and  fluent  language  found 
expression  in  conversations  which  ministered  to  in- 
tellectual culture.  .  .  .  One  cannot  review  or  report 
such  conversations.  Their  point  or  pungency  are  so 
connected  with  the  special  events  which  gave  rise  to 
them,  they  depend  so  much  upon  the  atmosphere  of 
the  occasion  and  the  frame  of  mind  of  those  present 
that  no  account  of  them  will  give  an  adequate  idea 
of  their  brilliancy. 

Some  of  Dr.  Evans'  humorous  papers  will  be  pub- 
lished in  the  proposed  volume  of  Essays  and  Addresses. 
It  will  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  his  fertility  of  re- 
source, to  indicate  here  the  titles  of  some.  "Apologia 
pro  vita  sua,  or  a  Word  for  Loafers,  by  one  of  Them  " 
may  head  the  list.  "  Leaves  out  of  the  Autobiography 
of  a  poor  young  man  "  is  in  the  same  vein.  In 
criticism  we  have  exhaustive  discussions  of  "Jack  and 
Jill"  and  "There  was  a  Man  in  our  Town."  Poetry 
is  represented  by  an  "  Ode  to  Sublimity,"  and  an  "Ode 
to  the  Ant,"  besides  parodies  of  Jean  Ingelow  and  the 
Sweet  Singer  of  Michigan.  Prose  parodies  are  "Dr. 
Isaac  Splaudius  "  (Crawford)  and  "Incendiarism  as  a 
Fine  Art"  (DeQuincey).  "Simon  Firkin  or  the  Career 
of  an  Ambitious  Young  Man  "  apparently  belongs  in 
the  same  category.  "Anthropophagy:  the  Future  De- 
velopment of  the  Race,  or  the  Coming  Cannibal,"  suf- 
ficiently explains  itself,  as  does  the  title  of  the  pseudo- 
scientific  paper  "Formicae." 


48  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

October  19,  1871,  Professor  Evans  was  married  to 
Miss  Sarah  E.  Fry,  of  La  Porte,  Indiana.  The  union 
of  hearts  thus  solemnized  brought  unalloyed  happiness 
to  both,  and  their  affection  grew  deeper  as  the  years 
passed  by.  Into  the  sanctities  of  home-life  we  get  a 
glimpse  in  the  two  sonnets  composed  by  the  husband 
on  the  tenth  and  on  the  twentieth  anniversary  of  their 
wedding : 

OCTOBER  19,  i88l 

"What 
For  sweetness  like  the  ten  years  wife, 
Whose  customary  love  is  not 
Her  passion  or  her  play,  but  life  !  " 

[Coventry  Patmore.] 

Tell  me  thy  secret,  Love,  I  thee  entreat ! 

My  secret  he  doth  win  who  winneth  me. 

Love  unlocks  Love  ;  its  holy  Mystery 

Forever  grows  more  deep,  more  clear,  more  sweet. 

Love's  hours  teach  him  who  loveth,  to  repeat 

The  alphabet  of  yon  celestial  Law, 

Which  to  their  central  suns  the  worlds  doth  draw. 

Love's  blissful  years  will  nurture  skill  to  spell 

The  words  in  which  the  heart  of  heaven  doth  burn. 

Love's  decades  grasp  the  phrases  wherein  dwell 

The  love  and  worship  of  the  saints  above, 

The  blest  divinity  which  seraphs  learn. 

E'en  thus  the  undying  centuries  will  yearn 

To  scale  the  untrodden,  God-kissed  altitude  of  love. 

OCTOBER    19,  1891. 

Lost  in  my  bliss  I  marvel  much  to-day 
How  Love's  strange  shepherding  brings  heart  to  heart 
By  paths  in  their  beginning  far  apart, 
Which  yet  beneath  his  staft"'s  mysterious  sway 
Draw  nearer  till  they  meet  in  one  blest  way 
Whose  course  doth  follow  Love's  unerring  chart, 
Whose  steps  are  trained  by  Truth's  divinest  art, 
Whose  goal  is  crowned  with  Joy's  eternal  ray. 

As  now  we  reach  our  twentieth  milestone,  Sweet, 

Of  sacred  fellowship  upon  that  road. 

We  pause  our  altar-stone  of  help  to  raise, 

To  breathe  one  prayer,  to  sing  one  hymn  of  praise 

For  our  one  life,  one  trust,  one  joy,  one  load 

Resting  the  while  at  our  dear  Shepherd's  feet. 

In  September,  1874,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Evans  took  pos- 
session of  the  residence  in  the  seminary  grounds  occu- 


HOME    AND  SOCIAL  LIFE.  49 

pied  at  one  time  by  Dr.  Allen  and  later  by  Dr.  Henry 
A.  Nelson.  This  home  was  theirs  thenceforth,  and  it 
was  the  center  of  united  affection  working  for  a  com- 
mon end.  Speaking  of  the  house  soon  after  moving 
into  it,  Dr.  Evans  wrote  to  a  friend  in  Wales:  "The 
feature  which  I  enjoy  most  of  all  is  my  new  study,  a 
room  on  the  second  floor  front  with  three  windows, 
two  overlooking  the  campus  and  one  to  the  east — as 
bright,  cozy,  quiet  and  cheerful  a  room  for  a  study  as 
I  know.  If  I  do  not,  like  Milton,  succeed  in  writing 
something  that  the  world  will  not  willingly  let  die,  it 
will  certainly  not  be  the  fault  of  my  surroundings." 
This  study  was  always  open  to  any  one  seeking  advice 
or  information,  and  the  whole  house  was  the  scene  of 
cordial  hospitality  to  friends  from  near  and  from  far. 
To  the  students  of  the  seminary  especially  it  was  made 
attractive  during  their  course,  and  they  were  warmly 
welcomed  to  it  when  they  returned  for  a  visit  after 
their  graduation.  Its  friendly  atmosphere  can  not  be 
described,  but  it  is  remembered  by  the  many  who  en- 
joyed it.  The  crowning  happiness  came  May  13,  1876, 
when  a  son  was  born  in  that  home.  His  father  writes 
soon  after  the  event:  "The  chief  item  of  news  from 
this  household  is  'all  about  the  baby'  who  was  born 
Saturday  the  13th  inst.  He  is  a  fine  boy,  fat  and 
healthy,  weighing  nine  pounds,  and  twenty-one  inches 
long.  .  .  .  It  is  too  early  to  say  much  about  him. 
The  general  impression  seems  to  be  that  he  favors  his 
mother.  His  hair  will  probably  have  a  tinge  of  his 
father's.  I  wouldn't  call  him  a  superlatively  handsome 
baby  though  I  am  his  father,  but  he  has  a  good  bright 
face,  and  a  dark  blue  eye  full  of  life  and,  I  suspect,  of 
mischief.  He  is  unusually  vigorous,  hits  out  square 
from  the  shoulder  and  kicks  magnificently.  On  the 
whole  I  am  not  inclined  to  dispute  v/hat  the  ladies  who 


50  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

have  seen  liim  say,  that  he  is  a  baby  to  be  proud  of. 
May  God  grant  that,  if  his  hfe  be  spared,  he  may  be 
a  true  and  good  man." 

The  Hfe  in  this  home  moved  on  quietly  and  happily 
through  years  filled  with  the  literary  work  already  indi- 
cated. The  shadow  which  began  to  fall,  took  the  shape 
of  physical  infirmity.  Dr.  Evans  had  always  had 
remarkable  vigor  of  body.  For  some  years  after  he 
became  professor  in  the  seminary  he  was  foremost  in 
the  athletic  sports  of  the  students — played  ball  with  all 
his  might,  rode  horseback,  walked  all  over  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  in  fact  was  known  as  a  "muscular  Chris- 
tian." It  is  not  necessary  here  to  detail  the  symptoms 
which  gave  him  uneasiness  and  puzzled  the  physicians. 
After  various  experiments  in  treatment,  he  decided  to 
spend  the  summer  of  the  year  1888  abroad.  His  va- 
cation was  at  first  extended  to  six  months,  and  later, 
he  was  given  leave  of  absence  for  the  year.  Receiving 
no  relief  in  the  methods  first  tried,  he  consulted  the 
eminent  Sir  Wm.  Roberts,  of  Manchester,  who  discov- 
ered organic  disease  of  the  heart.  He  did  not  conceal 
from  his  patient  the  serious  nature  of  the  difficulty,  but 
gave  him  reason  to  hope,  that  with  care,  he  might 
enjoy  some  years  of  life  and  work.  The  remainder  of 
the  year  was  spent  in  rest  and  under  treatment,  and  on 
his  return  the  Professor  took  up  his  work  with  courage 
and  cheerfulness.  His  disease  made  no  sensible  progress 
for  over  three  years,  and  his  labors  as  an  instructor  were 
never  more  successful  than  during  these  years. 

The  trip  to  Europe  was  taken  at  the  conclusion  of 
twenty-five  years  of  service  in  the  Seminary.  It  was 
fitting  that  it  should  be  marked  in  some  special  way. 
The  students  of  the  seminary,  as  a  token  of  their 
appreciation,  presented  him,  at  this  time,  with  a  watch 
and  chain.      Dr.  Evans'  reply  to  the  speech  of  presen- 


HOME    AND    SOCIAL    LIFE.  $1 

tation,  touchingly  expressed  his  deep  and  earnest 
affection  for  Lane  Seminary.  He  said  he  had  always 
been  grateful  for  the  providential  events  which  had  led 
him  to  Cincinnati,  and  as  a  student  to  Lane  Seminary. 
The  debt  he  owed  to  his  instructors  here,  he  could  not 
measure.  He  began  to  love  the  seminary  when  a  stu- 
dent, and  his  affection  for  it  had  deepened  with  each 
year  of  service.  He  owed  a  great  deal  to  the  students 
also,  whom  he  had  been  permitted  to  teach,  and  he 
loved  the  classes  in  the  institution  now,  and  every 
member  of  each  class.  At  the  meeting  the  same  year, 
the  trustees  of  the  seminary  put  on  record  their  high 
appreciation  of  Dr.  Evans  and  of  his  faithful  service  for 
twenty-five  years  in  the  following  words  (May  i,  1888) : 

"Whereas,  the  close  of  the  past  session  marks  the 
completion  of  twenty-five  years  of  service  in  this  insti- 
tution by  our  beloved  Professor,  the  Rev.  LI.  L  Evans, 
D.  D.  ;  therefore, 

"I,  Resolved,  That  we  record  our  sincere  thanks- 
giving to  Almighty  God  for  the  health  He  has  given 
him,  and  the  grace  and  power  from  on  high,  which 
have  been  added  to  his  instruction. 

"2.  We  hereby  tender  our  congratulations  to  Pro- 
fessor Evans,  and  assure  him  of  our  sincere  and  hearty 
appreciation  of  his  scholarship,  our  confidence  in  his 
teaching  power  and  our  affection  for  him  as  a  man  and 
as  a  Christian. 

"3.  We  hereby  grant  Professor  Evans  any  such 
extension  of  his  summer  vacation  into  the  time  of  the 
next  seminary  year,  as  he  may  himself  deem  useful  for 
the  completion  of  his  travel  in  foreign  parts,  and  com- 
mend him  and  his  to  the  good  hand  of  our  God  whose 
are  all  our  ways." 

Dr.  Evans'  continued  interest  in  his  work  during  his 
absence  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that  he  wrote  to  the 
class  graduating  in  1889,  a  pastoral  letter  which  the 
class  received  and  acknowledged  with  hearty  affection. 
A  copy  of  it  is  not  in  my  possession. 


V. 

CLOSING  YEARS. 

The  winter  after  Dr.  Evans'  return  from  Europe 
showed  renewed  theological  activity  in  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  The  years  since  the  reunion  had  been  spent 
in  developing  the  practical  activities  of  the  Church. 
It  had  been  assumed  that  its  doctrine  was  virtually 
one,  and  that  this  was  sufficiently  expressed  in  the  Con- 
fession and  Catechisms  of  the  Westminster  Assembly. 
So  recently  as  1881  it  was  asserted  on  the  floor  of  the 
General  Assembly  that  the  terms  of  reunion  pledged 
the  Church  to  keep  these  historic  monuments  in  the 
exact  form  in  which  the  American  Church  had  always 
received  them.  This  point  of  view  was  so  far  aband- 
oned in  1889  that  a  decided  movement  was  made 
towards  a  revision  of  the  Confession,  so  far  at  least  as 
to  remove  some  extreme  statements  from  that  vener- 
able document.  This  movement  culminated  in  the 
Assembly  of  1890,  which  appointed  a  committee  to 
revise  the  Confession. 

It  need  not  be  said  that  Dr.  Evans  took  the  liveliest 
interest  in  this  movement.  By  conviction  and  by  edu- 
cation he  belonged  to  the  New  School  branch  of  the 
Church.  In  the  reunion  he  knew  that  that  branch  had 
made  no  surrender  of  principle.  But  he  realized  that 
the  freer  thought  was  now  overshadowed  by  the  pre- 
(52)        .. 


CLOSING    YEARS.  53 

ponderant  conservatism,  especially  of  this  region.  So 
early  as  1876  he  wrote  to  his  friend  in  Wales  of  one 
who  "is  trying  all  he  can  to  break  down  liberal  Pres- 
byterianism. "  In  1879  ^^  writes  again:  "Sometimes 
I  feel  a  little  discouraged  about  the  reactionary  drift 
which  seems  now  to  be  setting  in  in  American  Presby- 
terianism.  I  fear  it  will  paralyze  the  power  of  the  Church 
to  stem  the  tide  of  unbelief  But  it  cannot  always 
continue,  nor,  I  trust,  long."  In  1883  he  had  an  op- 
portunity, of  which  he  availed  himself,  to  speak  for  lib- 
erty of  discussion.  The  occasion  was  Commencement 
day  of  that  year,  when  addresses  were  made  by  two  of  the 
graduates,  which  were  attacked  by  conservative  ministers 
as  "dangerous."  One  of  these  ,  by  Arthur  J.  Brown, 
was  on  ' '  the  Church  of  the  Future  ;"  the  other  by  A.  A. 
Rogers  on  "Revision  of  the  Westminster  Symbols." 
The  extremely  mild  progressiveness  of  these  papers 
was  criticised  by  some  who  were  present  and  (more 
bitterly)  by  some  who  were  absent.  Dr.  Evans  exposed 
these  critics  in  a  vigorous  article,  a  part  of  which  is  as 
follows : 

"Your  strictures  on  the  delivery  of  Mr.  Rogers' 
address  impel  me  to  make  a  few  remarks  in  my  own 
behalf,  as  one  of  those  whose  action  in  the  premises 
has  been  subjected  to  criticism.  I  write  only  for  my- 
self, (i)  You  say:  'the  animadversions  on  it  are  not 
based  upon  the  ground  that  revision  is  not  a  proper 
subject  for  investigation  and  discussion.'  I  question 
the  authoritativeness  of  this  statement.  I  challenge  a 
poll  of  those  who  object  to  the  speech.  Without  men- 
tioning names,  I  am  confident  that  only  a  very  small 
minority  of  them  could  be  found  to  say  that  they  are 
in  favor  of  touching  the  standards  at  all. 

"(2)  You  say  that  'nobody  regards  the  Confession 
as  infallible  or  immutable.'  If  the  Professor  of  Syste- 
matic Theology  in  the  Northwestern  Seminary  and  the 
editor  of  the  Presbyterian  Banner  do  not  hold  that  the 


54  LLEWELYN    lOAN     EVANS. 

Confession  is  immutable  when  they  plead  as  an  arj^u- 
ment  against  revision  that  under  the  terms  of  reunion 
'the  Confession  shall  continue  to  be  held,'  then  what 
do  they  mean?  .... 

"  (5)  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  just  what  there 
is  about  this  question  of  the  revision  of  the  standards 
which  invests  it  with  such  peculiar  sacredness.  Can- 
didates for  the  ministry  are  pamittcd,  yes,  are  encour- 
aged, nay  more,  are  required  to  discuss  the  profoundest 
and  most  sacred  of  Scripture  themes.  They  are  set  to 
tackle  the  problems  of*  fixed  fate,  free  will,  fore-knowl- 
edge absolute.'  They  are  appointed  to  write  in  more 
or  less  luminous  Latin,  theses  De  rredcstinatione ,  De 
Incarnatione,  De  Trinitatc.  They  are  invited  to  exegete 
the  knottiest  passages  of  Paul,  to  write  sermons  and 
lectures  on  each  and  every  theme  of  which  the  Stand- 
ards treat.  But  when  it  comes  to  the  discussion  of 
the  statements — human  uninspired  statements — of  the 
Standards,  the  caveat  is  thundered  forth:  Procid  Pro- 
/i?:;/// at  least  Procul Juvenes !  You  are  too  young,  too 
immature,  too  inexperienced !  Is  a  young  man  com- 
petent to  write  a  thesis  or  sermon  on  predestination  in 
phraseology  of  his  own,  who  is  not  competent  to  discuss 
the  phraseology  of  the  Confession?" 

Dr.  Evans  had  therefore  taken  his  position  squarely 
in  favor  of  free  discussion  long  before  the  revision 
movement  was  begun.  After  its  beginning  he  writes 
again  to  his  friend  in  Wales  (Nov.  1889):  "I  am  still 
avoiding  all  public  work  and  shall  adhere  to  that  rule 
for  some  time  to  come.  This  cuts  me  off  from  the 
rather  exciting  discussions  going  on  in  our  church  As- 
semblies on  the  question  of  revising  the  Confession  of 
Faith — against  which  position  I  chafe  sometimes,  as  I 
feel  I  should  like  to  have  a  hand  in  the  fight.  How- 
ever I  am  doing  a  little  writing  on  the  subject  in  the 
religious  newspapers,  and  mean,  if  I  am  able,  to  write 
a  good  deal  more  before  the  row  is  over.  I  care  more 
for  the  discussiofi  than  I  do  for  the  Revision  itself  I 
think  a  fine  opportunity  is  presenting  itself  for  putting 


CLOSING    YEARS.  55 

in  a  few  earnest  blows,  which  I  hope  may  tell,  for  a 
liberal  progressive  and  more  distinctly  Biblical  theology." 
In  accordance  with  this  view  Dr.  Evans  wrote  two 
articles  for  the  Herald  and  Presbyter  and  two  for  the 
Independent  which  gave  no  uncertain  sound  in  favor  of 
progress.  From  one  of  these  is  taken  the  following 
significant  passage : 

"But  there  is  a  more  serious  side  to  the  case.  Let 
me  emphasize  the  fact  that  the  opposition  to  revision 
is  confessedly  the  expression  of  a  serene  and  solid 
(shall  I  write  it  stolid  f)  satisfaction  with  the  status  quo 
of  Presbyterianism  and  Calvinism.  Why  agitate  for 
anything  better  than  we  have?  Why  strive  for  any 
higher  or  larger  success  than  we  have  been  all  along 
achieving  ?  '  All  the  past  successes  and  victories  of 
Presbyterianism  have  been  accomphshed  under  the  old 
Confession.  .  .  .  Is  it  not  better  for  the  church  to 
work  on  the  very  same  old  basis,  in  the  very  same 
straight  line?'  Is  this,  I  ask,  the  spirit  which  should 
rule  the  church  to-day?  Is  this  the  view  we  should 
take  of  its  achievements  and  equipments  for  work  and 
conquest?  Glorious  as  may  be  the  record  of  West- 
minster Presbyterianism  for  two  and  a  half  centuries, 
of  *  the  theological  learning  and  pulpit  eloquence,  the 
spiritual  life  and  practical  zeal,  the  heroic  endeavor  and 
consecrated  service  of  that  body  of  Christians  who 
have  believed  in  the  theology  of  Westminster  divines,' 
shall  we  allow  it  to  foster  that  spiritual  complacency 
which  is  the  bane  aUke  of  Christians  and  of  the  church  ? 
Shall  we  be  content  that  the  future  shall  be  simply  a 
■  rehearsal  of  our  past  ?  Was  this  the  spirit  of  Paul, 
whom  we  are  so  much  given  to  vaunt  as  our  spiritual 
father?  Is  this  forgetting  the  things  which  are  behind 
and  reaching  forth  unto  those  things  which  are  before  ? 
Is  this  becoming  all  things  to  all  men  ?  Is  this  going 
in  at  every  open  door?  Is  this  watching  for  great 
doors  and  effectual  ?  Is  this  redeeming  the  opportu- 
nity, fighting  as  not  beating  the  air,  striking  so  that 
every  blow  will  leave  a  black  eye  behind  it  ?  Is  this 
building  up  the  church  as  the  temple  of  God,   as  the 


56  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

body  of  Christ,  as  the  fullness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  In 
all  ?  Is  this  exulting  in  God  who  always  leadeth  us  in 
triumph  in  Christ?  If  this  be  Calvinism,  then  what  is 
Paulinism?  Nay,  is  not  this  rather  that  nightmare  of 
Calvinism,  that  dogmatic  fatalism,  the  effort  to  get  rid 
of  which  has  probably  as  much  to  do  with  the  Revision 
movement  as  any  one  cause? 

"Let  us  glance  a  moment  at  another  phase  of  this 
same  phlegmatic  temper,  in  which,  sad  to  say,  the 
champions  of  our  confessional  go-cart  show  to  less  ad- 
vantage even  than  the  champions  of  the  liturgical  go- 
cart.  The  latter  have  at  least  the  enthusiasm  of  their 
convictions.  They  are  benevolently  anxious  that  the 
merits  of  their  go-cart  should  be  appreciated,  and  they 
look  forward  with  confidence  to  the  day  when  every- 
body will  use  it.  Not  so  with  the  champions  of  the 
confessional  go-cart  The  unpopularity  of  their  peram- 
bulator does  not  seem  to  distress  them  particularly. 
Apparently  they  expect  nothing  else.  They  see  no 
good  reason  why  if  Mohammed  declines  to  come  to  the 
mountain,  the  mountain  should  go  to  Mohammed  {sic 
Dr.  Shedd).  They  have  little  or  no  hope  that  it  will 
ever  be  found  practicable  to  make  a  statement  of  Cal- 
vinism that  will  commend  it  even  to  Evangelical  Chris- 
tians who  thus  far  have  not  accepted  it  {sic  Dr.  DeWitt). 
They  contemplate  without  discomposure  the  alternative 
of  joining  other  communions  for  those  who  do  not  like 
our  system  {sic  Dr.  Patton).  But  are  we  reduced  to 
this?  Is  this  the  outcome  of  two  centuries  and  a  half 
of  Westminster  Confessionalism  ?  Is  it  strange  that 
some  of  us  are  getting  out  of  patience  with  this  dogmatic 
phlegm ;  that  we  are  somewhat  tired  of  a  Confessional- 
ism which  even  in  the  third  century  of  its  existence  is 
content  to  be  still  on  the  defensive,  to  be  still  explaining 
and  re-explaining,  ever  at  the  end  finding  its  explana- 
tions useless  and  beginning  all  over  again ;  which  de- 
spairs of  making  any  impression  on  the  Evangelical 
Christianity  outside  of  its  own  bounds ;  and  with  face  to 
the  past  and  back  to  the  future  drones  m.onotonous 
paeans  of  self-glorification?  In  all  this  we  see  nothing 
whereof  to  be  proud,  nothing  to  stir  the  blood,  nothing 


CLOSING  YEARS.  5/ 

to  inspire  enthusiasm.  We  would  fain  see  a  Confes- 
sionalism  of  another  type;  one  that  dared  trust  itself; 
that  put  other  creeds,  if  need  be,  on  the  defensive;  that 
carried  in  its  own  bosom  the  paean  of  victory ;  that  bore 
within  itself  the  promise  and  potency  of  development ; 
that  could  adapt  itself  more  intelligently  to  the  new 
conditions  of  scientific,  critical  and  religious  thinking — a 
Confessionalism  so  distinctively  and  ringingly  Scriptural 
that  all  Christians  who  accept  and  honor  the  Bible  as 
the  Word  of  God  would  hear  the  echo  of  its  ring  in 
their  own  inmost  convictions — a  Confessionalism  that 
would  encourage  its  adherents  to  go  forv/ard  with  a 
faith  born  of  the  assurance  that  the  future  is  its  own. 
Is  such  a  Confessionalism  possible?  Why  not,  Cal- 
vinism?   W/iy  notf 

"Why  not?  I  ask.  Is  Calvinism  to  be  forever  on 
the  defensive  ?  forever  pleading  with  a  half-apologetic, 
half-defiant  snarl,  that  we  know  our  system  '  is  a  hard 
System,'  that  it  has  'its  hard  side,'  'its  hard  features' 
— but  '  there  are  proof-texts '  ?  And  after  all,  '  why 
should  our  doctrines  keep  men  out  of  the  church? 
They  are  not  asked  to  accept  them'  {sic  Dr.  Patton). 
So !  And  what  then  is  the  raison  d'etre  of  our  Presbyte- 
rianism?  'To  be  a  witness-bearing  church'  {sic  Dr.  Pat- 
ton).  But  to  bear  witness  to  what?  Why  to  that  same 
body  of  doctrines  which,  if  we  are  to  accept  the  dog- 
matic confession  respecting  them,  are  irremxcdiably, 
hopelessly  hard;  which  must  nevertheless  be  unflinch- 
ingly and  unalterably  retained  in  all  their  hardness ;  but 
which,  notwithstanding  all  this,  only  a  small  percentage 
of  the  witness-bearers  of  the  church  are  asked  or  bound 
to  accept !  What  an  extraordinary  position  for  a  great 
witness-bearing  church  to  occupy,  to  be  sure !  " 

This  eloquent  presentation  of  the  claims  upon  us  for 
a  revision  of  our  creed,  is  one  of  the  most  mature  as 
well  as  one  of  the  happiest  expressions  of  the  author's 
theological  progressiveness.  That  progressiveness  was 
a  year  later  called  out  by  an  event  which,  as  we  now 
know,  defeated  the  revision  movement  in  the  church, 
and  changed  the  current  of  Professor  Evans'  own  life. 


58  LLEWEYLYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

This  was  the  inauguration  of  Professor  Charles  A. 
Briggs  to  the  chair  of  Biblical  Theology  in  the  Union 
Theological  Seminary.  The  now  famous  inaugural  ad- 
dress was  widely  discussed  throughout  the  church,  and 
resolutions  calling  the  attention  of  the  General  Assem- 
bly to  its  contents,  were  early  offered  in  the  Presbytery 
of  Cincinnati,  Dr.  Evans  on  hearing  the  clamor  raised 
about  the  inaugural,  at  once  went  carefully  over  the 
work  entitled,  "Whither?"  a  book  containing  the  fuller 
expression  of  Dr.  Briggs'  theological  views.  He  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  author  was  within  the  liberty 
allowed  by  the  Confession.  It  soon  became  evident, 
that  the  opposition  was  based  on  the  extreme  con- 
servative view  of  inspiration.  This  view  Dr.  Evans 
had  never  held.  At  his  ordination  he  had  disavowed 
it.  When  Drs.  Hodge  and  Warfield  advocated  it.  Dr. 
Evans  said,  in  private  conversation,  "they  can  not  force 
such  a  doctrine  down  our  throats."  Many  years  ago 
he  pointed  out  to  the  present  writer  that  when  we  ac- 
knowledge the  Scriptures  to  be  an  infallible  rule,  we  do 
not  affirm  them  to  be  inerrant  in  their  statements  of 
history  and  science.  In  his  article  on  the  Doctrinal 
significance  of  [New  Testament]  Revision,  he  had 
pointed  out  that  inspiration  is  not  adequately  stated  in 
current  theories.  He  adds:  "It  is  safe  to  assume  that 
any  theory  of  the  subject  which  is  not  elastic  enough 
to  touch  all  the  facts  in  the  case  is  liable  to  break." 
When  the  Briggs'  case  was  first  discussed,  he  said  to 
one  of  his  colleagues  (who  interested  himself  in  getting 
Dr.  Briggs'  transfer  disapproved),  "it  will  not  do  at 
this  day  to  condemn  any  man  on  the  theory  of  iner- 
rancy." 

The  state  of  things  which  confronted  us  was  this: 
Resolutions  were  introduced  in  Cincinnati  Presbytery, 
condemning  a  member  of  another  presbytery,  and  (in 


CLOSING    YEARS.  59 

effect)  overturing  the  General  Assembly  to  disapprove 
his  election.  These  resolutions  were  based  mainly  on 
a  theory  of  inspiration,  which  Dr.  Evans  had  never  held 
and  never  taught,  and  which  he  believed  to  be  contrary 
to  the  facts.  He  was  not  the  man  to  keep  silent  at 
such  a  time.  Although  he  had  not  spoken  in  public  for 
a  long  time,  he  resolved  to  oppose  these  resolutions  in 
Presbytery.  When  they  were  called  up,  he  argued 
against  them,  and  succeeded  in  getting  their  considera- 
tion postponed  until  a  later  meeting.  He  saw,  however, 
that  a  mere  debate  on  the  floor  of  Presbytery,  did  not 
meet  the  exigency.  He  had  already  begun  the  prepa- 
ration of  a  thorough  discussion  of  the  main  question. 
This  he  read  in  two  successive  meetings  of  the  Presby- 
terian Ministerial  Association,  speaking  nearly  two  hours 
each  time.  In  the  state  of  his  health  at  the  time  this 
was  a  clear  case  of  not  counting  his  life  dear,  that  he 
might  advance  the  truth.  His  friends  were  much  grat- 
ified to  observe  that  the  serious  strain  did  not  seriously 
affect  his  strength  at  the  time. 

The  paper  on  Biblical  Scholarship  and  Inspiration 
read  at  this  time  and  afterwards  published,*  is  a  noble 
plea  for  freedom  of  Biblical  study  against  dogmatic 
assumptions.  It  begins  with  a  statement  of  the  imme- 
diate occasion  for  the  paper,  but  dismisses  it  for  the 
larger  question  involved:  "The  movement,  of  which  I 
have  spoken,  and  the  utterances  in  the  press  and  else- 
where which  have  accompanied  and  interpreted  its  in- 
ception and  purpose,  convince  me  that  the  time  has 
come  for  a  definite  understanding  respecting  the  rights 
of  Christian  Scholarship  in  the  Biblical  departments  of 
our  theological  seminaries."     He  then    states  his  per- 

*Now  contained  in  "  Inspiration  and  Inerrancy,"  by  Henry 
Preserved  Smith,  published  by  Robert  Clarke  &  Co.,  Cincinnati, 
1893. 


6o  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

sonal  interest  in  the  matter;  acknowledges  the  obh'- 
gation  the  professor  is  under  to  do  nothing  that  can 
embarrass  the  minister  in  his  pulpit ;  but  claims  reci- 
procity, and  asserts  that  there  are  some  conclusions 
of  Biblical  theology  which  we  must  take  into  account. 
He  gives  Dr.  Charles  Hodge's  definition  of  inspiration, 
and  that  of  Drs.  A.  A.  Hodge  and  Warfield.  This  a 
/fz'm  definition  he  finds  to  be  unscientific,  and  "not 
only  unscientific,  but  irreverent,  presumptuous,  lacking 
in  the  humility  with  which  we  should  approach  a  Divine 
Supernatural  Fact."  This  position  he  establishes  by 
the  analogies  of  creation  and  the  Incarnation.  He 
then  sketches  the  recent  progress  of  Biblical  science 
and  contrasts  its  method  with  that  of  dogmatic  the- 
ology. Among  the  conclusions  of  Biblical  science  he 
singles  out  those  concerning  the  composition  of  the 
Gospels  for  somewhat  extended  treatment.  He  points 
out  how  incompatible  these  are  with  * '  the  ipsissima 
verba  original  autograph  theory"  of  inspiration.  He 
then  gives  some  specific  difficulties  in  the  way  of  that 
theory,  and  closes  with  a  positive  formulation  of  the 
doctrine  of  Paul  in  I  Cor.  ii,  6-16,  and  a  discussion  of 
the  Confession. 

The  time  will  come  when,  as  Dr.  Evans  himself 
hoped,  his  views  will  "obtain  from  the  Church,  in  its 
ultimate  decision,  the  recognition  which  is  claimed  for 
them  as  Scriptural,  evangelical,  confessional,  scientific, 
reverent,  and  indispensable  to  the  satisfactory  and  per- 
manent solution  of  the  great  problems  of  our  age  and 
to  the  harmony  of  religious  faith  and  scientific  and  crit- 
ical processes  and  results."  Even  at  the  present  time 
it  is  impossible  to  read  this  paper  without  being  struck 
by  the  revelation  of  the  author's  heart.  That  heart  was 
a  heart  bound  up  in  the  Word  of  God.  Its  impassioned 
argument  against  a  false  theory  of   Scripture  is  based 


CLOSING    YEARS.  6 1 

on  a  living  faith  in  that  Scripture,  and  a  desire  that  it 
should  not  be  put  in  a  false  light.  Dr.  Evans  saw  that 
to  commit  the  Church  to  the  theory  he  opposed  would  be 
suicidal,  certainly  against  the  best  interest  of  the  Church 
itself.  That  interest  was  as  near  to  Dr.  Evans'  heart 
as  it  was  to  the  heart  of  the  most  conservative.  To 
him  as  to  the  other,  inspiration  was  one  of  the  greatest 
of  divine  facts.  In  the  course  of  this  discussion  he 
says: 

"What  now  is  the  function  of  inspiration?  In  a 
word,  it  is  to  mediate  the  revelation ;  to  interpret,  to 
record,  to  apply  it ;  to  put  us,  to  put  all  generations 
under  the  immediate  power  of  those  divine  realities ; 
so  far  as  possible  to  bring  us  face  to  face  with  this  in- 
comparable drama  of  Power  and  Love  Divine,  face  to 
face  with  God  revealing  Himself.  All  through  the  ages 
the  Spirit  of  God  was  teaching  one  and  another  to  un- 
derstand, to  interpret,  to  record,  to  apply  that  wondrous 

process And  so  to-day,  and  through  all 

time,  in  all  that  makes  the  Bible  the  power  of  God 
unto  salvation,  it  is  the  Voice  of  God,  the  Word  of 
God,  the    supreme,   the   only  infallible  authority." 

It  will  seem  incredible  to  a  future  generation  that  a 
man  holding  such  a  doctrine  of  inspiration  should  be  re- 
garded with  suspicion,  and  denounced  as  a  rationalist, 
because  he  refused  to  affirm  the  extra  confessional  doc- 
trine of  inerrancy.  But  such  was  the  case.  The 
spirit  of  heresy-hunting  was  let  loose,  and  no  piety, 
scholarship,  or  services  were  enough  to  protect  from 
its  attacks. 

It  will  be  readily  understood  that  Dr.  Evans  watched 
with  intense  interest  the  course  of  controversy.  After 
the  publication  of  his  paper  he  had  little  to  say.  But 
he  visited  Detroit  and  was  an  interested  spectator  of 
the  General  Assembly,  which  disapproved  the  election 
of  Dr.    Briggs.     His  attitude  in   this   whole   matter  is 


62  LLEWEYLN    lOAN    EVANS. 

well    indicated    by    the    following    found    among    his 

papers  : 

HERESY  HUNTING. 

For  truth's  worst  foe  is  he  who  claims 

To  act  as  God's  avenger, 
And  deems  beyond  his  sentry-beat 

The  crystal  walls  in  danger. 
Who  sets  for  heresy  his  trap 

Of  verbal  quirk  and  quibble, 
And  weeds  the  garden  of  the  Lord 

With  Satan's  borrowed  dibble. 

The  overwhelming  majority  by  which  Dr.  Briggs  was 
disapproved  in  this  Assembly  and  the  continuance  of 
attack  by  the  denominational  press  led  Dr.  Evans  to 
look  with  favor  upon  a  call  from  the  Theological  Col- 
lege at  Bala,  Wales — the  place  of  his  early  studies. 
Previous  attempts  had  been  made  to  call  him  to  his 
native  country  and  had  been  unsuccessful.  This  one 
came  with  special  strength,  first,  because  it  was  given 
after  the  publication  of  the  paper  on  Biblical  Scholar- 
ship, and  with  the  assurance  that  the  views  there  ex- 
pressed would  be  no  bar  to  his  usefulness.  In  the 
second  place,  it  was  warmly  urged  by  the  distinguished 
Principal  Edwards,  with  whom  he  had  been  on  terms 
of  intimate  friendship  for  many  years.  In  the  third 
place,  his  experience  of  the  climate  of  Wales  at  his 
recent  visit  gave  him  the  most  favorable  anticipations 
as  to  his  health.  Finally,  (and  there  is  reason  to 
believe  that  this  reason  was  the  decisive  one)  he  had 
reason  to  hope  that  in  his  new  position  he  would  be 
favorably  situated  for  study  and  the  completion  of  his 
literary  work.  Discussion  of  theological  questions  he 
enjoyed.  But  for  the  polemics  of  the  religious  (!)  press 
with  its  insinuations  of  'unsoundness'  and  'false  teach- 
ing' he  had  no  taste.  For  these  reasons  he  accepted 
the  call  in  the  autumn  of  1891.  Had  his  health  been 
firm  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt   that   he   would  have 


CLOSING   YEARS.  6$ 

preferred  to  remain  in  this  county  and  fight  the  battle 
of  a  comprehensive  and  generous  Presbyterianism. 

As  it  was,  he  probably  underrated  the  strain  he 
would  undergo  in  leaving  this  country.  His  affection- 
ate nature  had  struck  its  roots  deep  in  the  soil  where 
it  had  been  planted  nearly  thirty-five  years.  He  had 
testified  to  his  love  for  the  Seminary  on  more  than  one 
occasion.  The  activities  of  a  lifetime  had  centered  about 
this  institution.  His  health  might  not  have  suffered  so 
much  had  it  not  been  for  the  grippe  which  attacked  him 
late  in  1891.  He  did  not  seem  to  regain  his  strength 
after  this  attack.  March  15,  the  Trustees  of  the  Sem- 
inary met  and  accepted  his  resignation.  In  April  came 
an  additional  strain  in  the  death  of  a  little  boy  (son  of 
the  present  writer)  to  whom  he  was  much  attached. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  linger  over  the  remaining  weeks — 
the  leave-taking,  the  voyage,  the  meeting  with  friends 
in  Wales,  and  the  severe  attacks  from  which  he  suffered. 
At  times  he  seemed  to  improve.  The  house  at  Bala 
was  taken  and  furnished.  In  the  large  garden  he  spent 
many  happy  hours  and  in  his  stronger  days  he  would  drive 
about  the  beautiful  country.  He  was  enthusiastically 
welcomed  by  old  and  new  friends.  A  public  meeting 
of  welcome  was  held,  at  which  however  he  was  not  able 
to  be  present.  Soon  after  landing  he  suffered  from  a 
severe  attack  oi  angina  pectoris.  The  alarm  of  the  ph}'- 
sicians  caused  Mrs.  Evans  to  cry  out  in  the  anguish  of 
her  heart:  "do  not  leave  me,"  with  other  words  of 
grief.  In  Christian  trust  he  said:  (speaking  with  diffi- 
culty) "it  is  as  the  Lord  wills;  if  His  time  has  come  I 
am  ready  to  go,"  He  then  calmly  gave  her  his  mes- 
sages for  the  son,  absent  at  school.  From  this  at- 
tack he  rallied  and  seemed  to  be  gaining.  Two  days 
before  his  death  he  wrote  a  bright  and  hopeful  letter  to 
his  son,  speaking  of  his  feeling  that  he  had  really  begun 


64  LLEWELYN   lOAN   EVANS. 

to  gain.  Sunday,  July  24,  he  was  planning  for  his 
work,  and  spent  a  part  of  the  day  in  the  sunny  garden. 
He  spoke  of  writing  letters  but  deferred  it  until  he 
should  be  a  little  stronger.  Late  at  night  another  se- 
vere paroxysm  came  on  and  refused  to  yield  to  any 
remedies.  After  great  suffering  he  became  unconscious 
and  early  in  the  morning  of  July  25,  1892,  his  loving 
loyal  spirit  departed  to  meet  the  Saviour  of  his  love — ■ 
the  Saviour  whom  he  had  served  so  well.  The  frail  house 
of  clay  was  brought  back  to  this  country  and  rests  near 
the  scene  of  his  earthly  labors. 

Ecclesiastical  bodies  in  this  country  and  in  Great 
Britain  passed  resolutions  honoring  his  memory.  Per- 
sonal friends  and  those  who  had  known  him  through 
his  writings,  published  tributes  to  his  memory  on  both 
sides  of  the  sea.  Numerous  letters  assured  the  bereaved 
wife  and  son  of  love  and  sympathy.  How  little  such 
efforts  can  accomplish,  none  realize  better  than  their 
authors.  The  lesson  of  a  life  like  his  must  be  felt 
rather  than  expressed.  The  deep  sense  of  personal  loss 
testified  by  many  friends,  shows  how  distinctly  the  les- 
son was  felt  in  his  case.  He  was  our  friend :  the 
heartache  does  not  stop  to  analyze  its  sensations.   I 

But,  if  we  can  not  analyze  the  grief,  we  can  draw 
one  or  two  obvious  conclusions.  ^Friendship  is  the  re- 
sult of  personal  character  and  personal  character  may 
help  and  stimulate  those  who  come  in  contact  with  it. 
In  the  case  of  Dr.  Evans,  we  must  remember  some 
things  which  will  be  a  joy  and  help  to  us  so  long  as  we 
live.  For  one  thing  he  was  thoroughly  and  transpar- 
ently sincere.  "Clear  your  mind  of  cant,"  he  used 
often  to  quote  from  Dr.  Johnson.  Few  men  have  so 
successfully  kept  their  minds  clear  of  cant.  This  was 
true  of  him  intellectually,  as  well  as  spiritually.  Intel- 
lectually he  sought  the  truth,  the  reality  of  things.    "In 


CLOSING    YEARS.  6$ 

the  study  of  Biblical  questions,  which  my  vocation  has 
made  necessary,  I  have  both  striven  to  keep  an  open 
mind,  and  earnestly  sought  the  guidance  of  a  wisdom 
higher  than  my  own."  This  sentence  from  his  last 
great  work  defines  his  whole  intellectual  attitude.  And 
spiritually,  he  showed  the  same  sincerity.  Guilelessness 
was  so  thoroughly  his  own  attitude  that  he  could  not 
suspect  another  of  a  willingness  to  deceive.  In  his 
business  dealings  with  men  this  was  to  his  disadvantage, 
for  he  could  not  be  made  to  see  the  necessity  of  ordi- 
nary checks  and  precautions. 

The  manysidedness  of  his  character  was  coupled 
with  a  modesty  that  sometimes  seemed  to  his  friends 
excessive.  This  was  not  bashfulness,  which  is  often 
self-conceit,  but  it  was  self-forgetfulness,  unconscious- 
ness that  he  was  in  any  sense  superior  to  others,  with 
frank  and  generous  appreciation  of  all  that  was  good 
in  them.  With  this  went  unvarying  cheerfulness  of 
mood.  His  merry  times  were  not  offset  by  times  of 
depression.  Even  in  severe  illness  and  when  unex- 
pected misfortune  came  upon  him,  he  never  lost  the 
habit  of  looking  at  the  bright  side.  Quiet  heroism 
marked  the  severe  attacks  which  came  towards  the  close 
of  Hfe,  and  those  nearest  to  him  never  heard  a  murmur 
of  impatience. 

The  root  of  these  graces  was  deep  and  fervent  piety. 
His  faith  was  fixed  upon  his  Lord  Christ,  as,  following 
Luther,  he  loved  to  call  him.  Supreme  loyalty  to  him 
was  the  spring  of  his  daily  life.  Like  Paul,  his  great 
aim  was  to  know  Christ.  Hence,  intellectually,  he 
made  all  knowledge  tributary  to  this.  His  daily  study 
was  a  joy  to  him,  because  it  concerned  itself  with  the 
life  of  his  Lord.  But  spiritually  also  he  fed  on  this  Hfe. 
His  was  no  mere  philosophical  or  historical  construction 
of  the  facts  he  studied.     He  applied  them  in  his  own 


66  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

life.  He  grew  into  the  divine  life  as  he  apprehended 
It,  One  of  his  students,  the  last  year  of  his  life  (a 
young  man  from  Japan)  asked  him  one  day  in  the  class, 
"how  he  had  attained  such  holiness."  The  question 
shows  the  deep  impression  made  by  Dr.  Evans'  spir- 
itual life  upon  those  brought  under  his  influence. 
"Personal  Christianity,"  was  the  subject  of  his  last 
address  before  Lane  Seminary,  and  it  sums  up  the  pur- 
pose of  his  life.  A  result  of  this  supreme  loyalty  to 
Christ,  was  ardent  affection  for  the  Scriptures,  which 
contain  the  word  of  Christ.  "  If  there  is  anything  in 
which  my  whole  being  is  wrapped  up,  it  is  the  study 
and  teaching  of  the  Word  of  God.  If  there  is  any. 
thing  that  I  love  with  every  fibre  of  my  every  heart- 
string,  it  is  that  blessed  old  book.  If  there  is  anything 
for  which,  so  far  as  I  know  myself,  I  would  gladly  lay 
down  my  life,  it  is  that  this  book  may  be  known  and 
read  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  world, 
as  the  guide  of  lost  souls  to  heaven."  Such  was  his 
lancfuase  at  the  time  when  he  knew  he  would  be  ac- 
cused  of  "attacking  the  Bible,"  and  no  one  who  knev/ 
him  could  doubt  the  truth  of  the  avowal. 

Of  intellectual  endowments — keen  and  brilliant  power 
of  acquisition,  critical  insight,  philosophic  breadth, 
vividness  of  imagination,  richness  of  expression,  felicity 
of  style,  the  power  of  picturesque  arrangement  of 
thought — of  these  I  will  not  speak.  One  quality  came 
out  conspicuously  in  the  late  controversy — the  courage 
of  conviction.  Dr.  Evans  might  have  excused  himself 
from  coming  to  the  defense  of  an  unpopular  cause. 
His  health  was  not  firm.  He  had  been  warned  to 
avoid  excitement  and  exertion.  He  knev/  the  temper 
of  his  audience.  He  might  have  pleaded  that  he  must 
not  imperil  the  popularity  of  the  seminary.  But  when 
he  saw  clearly  (as  he  did    from  the   beginning)    that 


CLOSING    YEARS.  6/ 

freedom  of  teaching  was  endangered,  he  had  no  more 
question.  What  he  could  do  to  save  the  church  from 
self-stultification  should  be  done,  regardless  of  majori- 
ties. 

And  with  this  steadfastness  was  joined  a  living  hope 
for  the  future.  Among  the  cherished  words  he  spoke 
none  are  more  cherished  than  his  words  of  comfort  and 
hope  over  the  grave,  as  it  seemed  to  swallow  up  the 
joy  of  life.  His  affection  was  fixed  upon  a  living 
Christ,  and  by  the  eye  of  faith  he  seemed  to  see  Him 
and  to  direct  the  look  of  others  to  the  same  bright 
vision.  "It  is  not  our  loved  ones,"  he  said,  "who 
have  been  translated  into  that  life,  who  should  be 
called  'the  dead'  or  'the  dying.'  We  are  the  dead, 
we  are  the  dying,  for  what  is  our  life  here  but  a  con- 
tinual dying,  a  being  unclothed  that  we  may  be  clothed 
upon  ?  Let  us  not  think  of  our  departed  loved  ones  as 
dwelling  in  the  darkness  of  the  tomb.  Let  us  not  seek 
our  living  among  the  dead."  This,  a  part  of  his  last 
public  utterance,  comforts  us  in  our  bereavement,  and 
teaches  us  to  look  forward  to  the  time,  when  with  him, 
we  shall  live  that  larger,  higher  life. 


The  following  sermons  have  been  chosen  with  the 
aim  of  exhibiting  various  sides  of  Professor  Evans' 
thought.  Some  favorites  asked  for  by  friends  could 
not  be  included  because  the  manuscript  was  imperfect. 
In  some  instances  a  word  has  been  supplied  (as  in  the 
quotations  already  given  in  the  biographical  sketch)  and 
indicated  by  [square]  brackets. 

All  who  read  the  book  are  under  especial  obligation 
to  Mrs.  F.  E.  Cone  and  the  Rev.  J.  H.  Cone,  who  pre- 
pared the  copy  of  the  sermons  for  the  printer.  Mr.  Cone 
has  also  kindly  read  the  proofs  of  the  whole  volume. 


(68) 


SERMONS. 


I. 

FAITH,  HOPE,  LOVE. 

I  Corinthians  13:  13.     And  now  abideth  faith,  hope,  charity,  these  three;  but  the 
greatest  of  these  is  charity. 

Religion  is  an  assemblage  of  great  things.  Its 
sources  are  great :  not  cisterns  but  oceans,  vast,  un- 
fathomable, deep  crying  unto  deep.  Its  powers  are 
great,  great  with  the  energies  of  Omnipotence,  with 
the  thunder-might  of  God.  Its  results  are  great;  they 
are  commensurate  with  the  purposes  of  Deity,  and  they 
fill  eternity.  Greatness  is  for  the  most  part  a  relative 
term.  There  is  indeed  a  greatness  which  is  absolute," 
independent  of  all  comparison.  Yet  the  greatness 
even  of  realities  which  are  positively  such  is  known 
through  the  relation  which  they  sustain  to  our  capaci- 
ties. Greatness  thus  considered  is  that  attribute  of  an 
object  which  calls  forth  all  the  resources  of  the  power, 
or  powers  that  have  to  do  with  it,  which  fills  or  more 
than  fills  the  measure  of  any  capacity,  causing  it  to 
expand,  constraining  the  mind  to  enlarge  itself  toward 
it.  There  are  objects  and  qualities  toward  which  the 
mind  in  its  action  upon  them  is  constrained  to  contract 
itself,  to  narrow  itself  down,  as  there  are  material  ob- 
jects, the  minuteness  of  which  requires  that  the  organs 

(69) 


70  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

which  observe  them  and  the  powers  which  handle  them 
should  reduce  themselves  as  much  as  possible  before 
they  can  do  much  with  them. 

Again  there  are  objects  and  qualities  which  just  meet 
the  measure  of  the  powers  which  operate  them.  Such 
are  most  of  the  facts  and  objects  with  which  we  have 
to  do.  They  can  neither  be  called  great  nor  small. 
They  were  not  intended  either  to  overwhelm  us  by  their 
greatness,  or  to  evade  us  by  their  littleness.  We  can 
not  take  our  microscopes  with  us  everywhere  to  hunt  up 
the  small :  neither  can  we  carry  our  Archimedean 
levers  everywhere  to  overturn  mountains  or  to  move 
worlds.  We  can  not  be  always  straining  ourselves  lift- 
ing heavy  weights ;  we  can  not  accompHsh  much  if 
we  do  nothing  but  pick  up  grains.  God  has  therefore 
made  most  of  the  usefuls  of  life  neither  great  nor 
small,  but  they  may  be  easily  handled,  freely  used,  and 
converted  to  our  purpose. 

There  are  some  things  which  challenge  the  powers, 
which  draw  out  the  capacities  by  which  they  are  availa- 
ble. They  exceed  the  average  magnitude  and  weight 
of  things  with  which  we  have  to  do.  We  are  con- 
scious of  a  strain  on  our  faculties  in  our  effort  to  grasp 
and  use  them.  They  tax  our  resources  to  the  full. 
They  excite  our  desires  and  aspirations :  they  stimulate 
the  outreachings  of  our  powers.     These  we  call  great. 

It  is  possible  for  a  man  by  constant  intercourse  with 
the  little  to  have  his  views  and  powers  contracted,  until 
the  small  no  longer  seems  such.  One  who  has  lived 
among  the  mountains  when  he  first  settles  down  on  a 
rolling  prairie  feels  contempt  for  the  wavy  hillocks 
about  him,  but  ere  long  familiarity  breeds  in  this  in- 
stance something  better  than  contempt.  After  a  while 
they  become  a  tolerable  substitute  for  the  half-for- 
gotten   cloud-capped   ranges    far   away.     And  so  with 


SERMONS.  71 

moral  realities.  One  who  has  associated  with  men  of 
intelligence  and  moral  worth,  when  he  abandons  their 
society  for  that  of  the  brutal  and  degraded,  experiences 
at  first  a  feeling  of  revulsion — it  may  be  of  scorn :  but 
a  few  years  lower  his  standard  of  taste  and  sympathy, 
so  that  his  present  companions  become  great  and  good 
enough  for  him.  This  is  one  of  the  curses  of  sin.  It 
brings  down  the  soul  to  a  state  of  insensibility  in  re- 
spect to  the  moral  littleness  and  unworthiness,  of  the 
pursuits  and  characters  with  which  it  becomes  iden- 
tified. 

On  the  contrary  it  is  possible  for  any  sense  intellect- 
ual or  moral,  to  grow,  and  for  the  views  which  come 
through  it  to  be  enlarged,  until  that  which,  at  the  first 
seems  great,  presently  becomes  familiar,  and  soon 
small.  That  which  seems  great,  I  say,  for  to  the  thought- 
ful and  sympathetic  observer,  the  truly  great  never 
becomes  familiar,  still  less  small.  Things  which  are 
essentially  great  are  great  always  to  the  soul  that 
understands  them.  But  that  which  is  relatively  great, 
which  is  great  only  for  the  time,  and  in  relation  to  our 
present  stage  of  development  will,  in  a  more  advanced 
stage,  be  rightly  regarded  as  of  less  importance.  This 
principle  is  involved  in  the  argument  of  which  the  text 
is  a  part.  "  Charity  never  faileth  :  but  whether  there 
be  prophecies,  they  shall  fail :  whether  there  be  tongues 
they  shall  cease :  whether  there  be  knowledge  it  shall 
vanish  away.  For  we  know  in  part,  and  we  prophesy 
in  part.  But  when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  then 
that  which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away.  When  I 
was  a  child  I  spake  as  a  child,  I  understood  as  a  child, 
I  thought  as  a  child :  but  when  I  became  a  man  I  put 
away  childish  things.  For  now  we  see  through  a  glass 
darkly,  but  then  face  to  face :  now  I  know  in  part,  but 
then  shall  I  know  even  as  also  I  am  known.     And  now 


72  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

abideth  faith,  hope,  charity,  these  three :  but  the  great- 
est of  these  is  charity."  The  gift  of  prophecy,  the 
gift  of  tongues,  the  gift  of  science,  however  great  and 
important  they  may  be,  at  a  certain  point,  can  not  be 
carried  up  through  all  the  stages  of  Christian  develop- 
ment. They  belong  to  the  period  of  childhood ;  we 
go  beyond  them  ;  they  are  partial  and  temporary ;  they 
are  to  give  way  to  that  which  is  perfect.  But  faith, 
hope,  love,  are  great  always ;  they  abide  forever.  We 
can  grow  up  to  the  former,  we  can  come  up  to  their 
altitude ;  we  may  grow  yet  higher,  until  we  look  down 
on  them ;  we  may  outgrow  them,  until  we  think  them 
small,  as  the  man  outgrows  the  thoughts,  feelings  and 
ambitions  of  the  child.      But  there  are  things  Vv'hich  we 

j  are  never  to  outgrow,  which  rise  as  we  rise,  which  tower 
always  above  us,  as  when,  in  climbing  a  mountain,  the 
sky  remains  no  less  high,  the  stars  no  less  distant  than 
before.  They  grow  as  we  grow ;  as  we  increase  in 
strength,  they  increase  in  weight ;  they  always  require 
effort,  energy,  to  possess  and  to  use  them.  To  receive 
them  the  mind  must  always  expand  itself.  To  employ 
them  our  powers  must  always  exert  themselves.  These 
realities,  experiences  and  exercises  deserve  to  be 
called  great.  They  abide  in  their  grandeur,  their  power 
and  their  supremacy.  * '  Now  abideth  faith,  hope,  char- 
ity, these  three."  all  of  which  are  great,  all  of  which  are 

I  eternal,  "but  the  greatest  of  these  is  charity."  "And 
now  abideth  Faith."  This  grace  is  permanent.  It  will 
never  pass  away.  It  will  never  give  way  to  anything 
else.  It  will  never  become  anything  else.  It  will  be 
glorified,  made  perfect.  For  like  every  other  perfection 
it  is  here  in  its  beginning,  in  its  chrysalis  state  only.   The 

r  faith  of  the  future  will  be  to  the  faith  of  the  present  like 
the  winged  butterfly  to  the  creeping  caterpillar.  But  it  will 
never  lose  its  distinctive  character.  It  will  always  be  faith. 


SERMONS.  73 

Take  any  definition  of  it  that  you  will.  Regard  it  in 
its  most  restricted  technical  sense,  as  reliance  on  Christ. 
Will  the  Christian  ever  lose  that  ?  Will  he  ever  cast  it 
away  from  him  ?  Will  he  ever  remove  himself  from 
that  sure  foundation,  so  tried,  so  precious,  the  Rock  of 
Ages  ?  Will  he  ever  build  on  any  other  name  ?  Will  he 
ever  out-grow  his  faith  in  the  Redeemer  ?  How  can  he  ? 
He  cannot  undo  that  which  has  been  done ;  he  cannot 
change  the  past ;  he  cannot  dispose  of  the  fact  that  he 
was  a  sinner,  ruined,  lost,  not  to  be  saved  without  an 
atonement;  that  such  an  atonement  has  been  made; 
that  he  was  saved  only  by  accepting  that  atonement,  by 
appropriating  Christ ;  that  he  was  received  only  through 
the  mediation  and  intercession  of  Christ;  that  it  was 
through  his  merits  that  he  entered  heaven,  and  enjoyed 
the  favor  of  God  and  that  he  stands  before  God  accepted 
in  the  Beloved.  These  facts  he  will  never  be  able  to 
change;  and  how  can  he  forego  his  reliance  on  Christ? 
And  even  if  he  could,  think  you  that  he  would?  The 
Saviour  who  visited  him  in  his  distress,  who  pitied  him 
in  his  misery,  who  strengthened  him  in  his  weakness, 
who  healed  him  in  his  disorders,  whose  right  hand  sup- 
ported him  in  all  dangers,  and  brought  him  at  last  to 
heaven— is  it  possible  that  the  Christian  should  ever 
give  him  up  and  fall  back  to  rely  on  himself?  Will  the 
time  ever  come,  when  he  will  wish  to  say,  Christ  was 
my  salvation,  but  he  is  no  longer ;  he  was  my  righteous- 
ness, but  he  is  no  longer;  he  was  my  mediator  and 
advocate  before  God,  but  I  have  no  further  need  of  him. 
I  can  appear  for  myself,  and  plead  my  own  cause. 
No !  through  all  eternity,  Christ  will  be  to  the  saints,  all 
the  foundation  of  their  hope,  the  rock  of  their  faith. 
In  this  sense  it  will  be  true  forever  that  * '  Faith  abideth. " 

Take  the  more  general  view  of  faith,  as  trust  in  God. 
Will  God  ever  change?     Will  he  be  less  worthy  of  your 


74 


LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 


trust?  Shall  we  ever  become  independent  of  his  sup- 
port ?  Is  not  his  kingdom  an  everlasting  kingdom,  and 
is  not  his  will  the  ground  of  all  our  hopes  and  plans  ? 
Will  not  our  success  and  our  blessedness  depend  for- 
ever on  the  personal  superintendence  exerted  by  God 
over  our  individual  interests?  Is  not  this  God  our  guide 
forever  and  ever  ?  It  is  true  that  if  we  are  sons  of  God, 
dangers  which  encompass  us  here  will  one  day  be  left 
behind,  that  we  shall  be  secure  from  harm ;  but  why  ? 
Because  we  are  nearer  to  God,  but  being  nearer  shall  we 
trust  him  any  the  less?  The  child  when  beset  by  dan- 
ger flees  to  his  father  for  safety,  because  he  trusts  in 
his  power  to  save  him,  and  all  the  time  that  the  danger 
threatens  him,  nestling  in  his  father's  arms  he  trusts  him 
and  feels  secure.  But  when  the  danger  is  past  and 
when  his  father  still  holds  him  to  his  heart  and  causes 
him  to  forget  his  fears  by  soothing  words  and  loving 
embracements,  does  he  cease  trusting  his  father  ?  And 
how  can  the  child  of  God,  when  his  father  takes  him 
home  to  himself,  and  bestows  on  him  crowns  of  glory 
and  rejoicing,  wiping  away  all  tears  from  his  eyes,  and 
surrounding  him  with  the  embraces  of  eternal  love ; — 
how  can  the  child  ever  forget  to  trust  the  father  ? 

Take  a  still  more  general  conception  of  faith,  that 
which  is  presented  in  the  Bible  statement,  "Faith  is 
the  substance  (certainty)  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence 
(conviction)  of  things  not  seen."  In  this  sense  at  least 
it  is  supposed  by  many  that  the  functions  of  faith  will 
some  time  cease.  There  will  be  no  further  occasion  for 
its  exercise  when  the  things  which  we  now  hope  for 
are  possessed,  and  when  the  things  which  are  now  un- 
seen become  objects  of  immediate  contemplation  and 
enjoyment.  But  this  supposition  assumes  that  all  the 
objects  of  faith  and  hope,  all  the  unseen  realities  toward 
which  the  heart  goes  forth  in  expectation,  desire,  and 


SERMONS.  7  5 

love,  will  become  visible,  tangible  possessions,  that  they 
will  all  become  ours  in  a  sense  different  from  what  they  are 
now.  Certainly  this  is  true  in  respect  to  many  of  those 
realities,  but  not  in  respect  to  all.  However  much  the 
sphere  of  possession  may  enlarge,  there  will  always  re- 
main a  beyond.  The  larger  the  horizon  of  sight,  the 
larger  the  firmament  of  faith.  It  is  true  that  some  ob- 
jects of  faith  become  objects  of  sight  and  knowledge, 
but  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  objects  of  faith  are 
at  the  same  time  multiplied.  For  everything  that  is 
seen  or  known  brings  with  it  something  new  to  be  be- 
lieved. 

Still  further ;  the  enlargement  and  elevation  of  knowl- 
edge, gives  greater  dignity  and  nobleness,  to  the  power 
of  faith.  The  child  believes  many  things  on  testimony 
and  on  the  authority  of  others,  which  when  he  has 
grown  to  be  a  man  he  finds  of  his  own  knowledge  to  be 
true  ;  and  the  enlarged  and  enlightened  knowledge  of  his 
manhood  contains  many  things  that  were  not  contained 
either  in  the  knowledge  or  faith  of  earlier  years ;  but  he 
also  finds  more  to  believe,  and  how  much  nobler  and 
better  after  all  the  faith  of  the  man,  when  real  and  vital, 
than  that  of  the  child !  How  much  more  intelligent, 
expansive,  inspiring !  The  same  will  be  true  forever. 
With  the  extension  of  the  powers,  with  the  increase  of 
the  knowledge,  and  the  greater  breadth  and  depth  of 
the  soul's  life,  its  faith  will  embrace  more,  appropriate 
more,  bring  more  in,  and  send  more  out.  It  will  be- 
come a  more  exalted  power,  investing  man  and  his  life 
with  greater  nobleness,  and  crowning  him  with  greater 
blessedness.  But  as  I  have  already  intimated  there  are 
realities  which  must  ever  remain  objects  of  faith,  which 
can  never  be  otherwise  possessed. 

All  that  pertains  to  the  interior  character  and  glory 
of  God,  all  that  can  not  be  revealed  immediately  to  the 


y6  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

mind  as  the  light  is  revealed  to  the  eye,  all  truths,  prin- 
ciples, laws,  which  can  only  be  symbolized  or  shadowed 
forth,  these  must  always  continue  to  be  apprehended 
and  appropriated  through  faith.  And  in  the  future 
— in  heaven — realities  such  as  these  will  be  indefinitely 
multiplied.  We  seem  oftentimes  to  entertain  very 
gross  and  sensual  conceptions  of  the  heavenly  life  and 
of  the  realities  with  which  it  communes.  We  call  them 
spiritual,  it  is  true,  but  we  use  the  word  in  a  vague, 
general  way,  to  indicate  simply  that  the  objects,  pur- 
suits and  enjoyments  of  heaven,  are  much  more  ethereal 
than  those  of  earth.  The  life  of  heaven  we  regard  as 
essentially  a  life  of  sight — of  direct  contemplation,  of 
tangible  possession  and  enjoyment.  Now,  it  is  un- 
doubtedly true  that  more — much  more — will  be  brought 
within  our  immediate  reach  than  here.  With  the  ren- 
ovation of  all  the  powers  of  body  and  mind,  which  will 
follow  the  resurrection  and  our  introduction  into  another 
sphere,  will  come  the  multiplication  of  those  things 
with  which  we  can  directly  communicate.  We  shall 
come  into  close  contact  with  many  more  realities  and 
facts  there  than  here,  we  shall  see  more,  hear  more, 
of  the  facts  and  realities  of  being.  But  is  this  the 
only  or  principal  gain  which  we  may  look  for  in  the 
future  ?  By  no  means.  It  is  not  in  the  circle  of  per- 
ception that  the  greatest  enlargement  is  to  take  place. 
We  must  remember  that  in  heaven  as  in  earth,  we  are 
to  have  a  two-fold  nature  ;  a  material  nature,  refined,  it 
is  true,  purified,  immeasurably  elevated  above  any  we 
have  now,  and  brought  into  the  closest  sympathy  with 
the  higher  nature,  but  still  material ;  and  the  higher  or 
spiritual  nature,  also  renewed,  enlarged,  prepared  for 
a  higher  and  more  glorious  career.  There  will  be  the 
spirit  and  the  spiritual  body  of  which  Paul  speaks. 
And  corresponding  to  this   two-fold  nature,  there  will 


SERMONS.  TJ 

be  a  two-fold  heaven — a  sensible  heaven  and  a  spiritual 
heaven ;  a  world  of  glory  and  beauty  and  joy,  appeal- 
ing to  the  lower  of  our  two  natures,  to  the  spiritual 
body,  and  a  nobler  world  of  grander  glory,  of  diviner 
beauty,  and  more  spiritual  joy,  appealing  to  the  higher. 
Now,  there  are  many  whose  anticipations  of  future 
blessedness  do  not  reach  much  higher  than  the  lower, 
the  sensible  heaven.  They  think  of  it  as  a  Paradise  of 
flowers  and  fruits,  and  groves  and  odors  unknown  to 
earthly  climes,  a  magnificent  expanse  of  sublimity  and 
loveHness,  flooded  with  perpetual  sunshine,  thronged 
with  hosts  in  shining  white,  melodious  with  the  harping 
and  songs  of  joyous  worshipers,  who  spend  their  eter- 
nity in  the  immediate  contemplation  of  God,  and  in  per- 
sonal communion  with  the  Lamb  that  sitteth  on  the 
throne.  Now,  there  can  be  no  doubt,  as  I  have  al- 
ready said,  that  heaven  will  be  a  glorious  place  for 
eye  and  ear,  and  for  every  perceptive  and  receptive  fac- 
ulty. The  love  of  visible  beauty,  harmony  and  sub- 
limity will  be  gratified  there  in  a  manner  and  degree 
beyond  all  our  present  conceptions.  There  will  be 
personal  fellowship  with  Christ,  and  a  face  to  face  be- 
holding of  specific  manifestations  of  God's  glory,  of 
which  all  earthly  manifestations  are  dim  foreshadow- 
ings,  as  the  morning  star  prophesies  the  sun.  But  all 
this  will  be  but  the  threshold  of  heaven;  the  outer 
porch  of  the  temple.  Beyond  all  this  will  be  the 
inner  courts  and  the  Holy  of  Holies.  The  highest 
glory  of  heaven  will  be  the  spiritual.  It  will  be  a 
world  for  the  heart,  the  soul,  the  affections,  the  aspira- 
tions, the  intuitions,  the  spiritual  powers,  the  sancti- 
fied reason,  the  glorified  imagination,  which  reach  be- 
yond all  that  is  immediately  present,  which  soar  on 
the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  take  their  flight  into 
the  shadow  of  the  infinite  and  plunge  into  the  depths 


78  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

of  the  eternal,  thence  to  bring  up  treasures  for  the 
heart  to  cherish  and  to  love.  It  is  a  world  for  the 
higher  nature  of  man  to  which  faith  belongs,  of 
A  which  faith  is  a  ruling  power.  Faith  itself  will  be  a 
much  nobler,  more  exalted,  more  productive  power 
than  here. 

It  will  substantiate  its  objects  with  much  greater  clear- 
ness. It  will  realize  them  much  more  fully  and  satis- 
factorily. It  will  be  accompanied  with  greater  certainty, 
for  certainty  belongs  to  Faith  as  well  as  sight.  And  in 
this  sense  heaven  will  be  a  world  of  clearer  apprehen- 
sion, and  in  one  sense  we  may  call  it  a  world  of  sight, 
because  it  will  be  a  world  of  greater  certainty.  In  this 
sense  faith  will  change  to  sight.  What  we  believe  here 
with  so  much  wavering  and  doubting  that  we  must  pray 
continually — Lord,  I  believe,  help  thou  mine  unbelief — 
we  shall  there  believe  as  though  we  saw  it. 

"Now  also  abideth  hope."  Hope  is  permanent  no 
less  than  faith.  As  long  as  there  is  a  future  before 
man,  and  as  long  as  there  is  in  that  future  a  good  to  be 
\  desired  and  attained,  there  must  be  hope.  Hope  stim- 
ulates to  action,  sustains  life.  It  is  the  soul's  oxygen.  It 
keeps  it  from  being  asphyxiated,  from  falling  into  spiritual 
torpor.  It  keeps  man  well  up  in  the  line  of  duty,  spurs 
him  to  rise  higher  and  to  possess  more.  It  links  the 
present  to  the  future,  the  lower  to  the  higher,  that 
]  which  man  has,  to  that  which  he  has  not.  You  some- 
times sing  "Hope  will  change  to  glad  fruition." 
What  do  these  words  mean  ?  Do  they  mean  that  here- 
after we  shall  enjoy  much  for  which  we  can  only  hope 
here  ?  Do  they  mean  that  as  soon  as  you  reach  heaven 
you  will  get  a//  you  hope  for  here,  and  that  there  will 
be  nothing  more  to  be  hoped  for?  The  Bible  teaches 
nothing  of  that  sort.  Think  a  minute  what  such  a 
doctrine  implies. 


SERMONS.  79 

In  heaven  is  all  activity  to  cease,  are  we  to  have 
nothing  to  do  there  but  to  sit  down  on  seats  of  ease, 
on  thrones  of  state,  and  drink  out  of  the  cups  of  joy- 
already  poured  out  for  those  who  reach  the  place  ?  Is 
all  possession  to  cease,  is  there  to  be  no  looking  for- 
ward, no  future,  nothing  but  an  everlasting  Now?  Is 
there  to  be  no  looking  and  climbing  upward,  no  as- 
spiration,  nothing  but  a  placid  looking  down  from  the 
lofty  pedestals  on  which  like  stylites  we  are  to  stand 
forever  ?  Is  there  not  to  be  gathering  in  of  new  treas- 
ures, nothing  but  brooding  like  misers  over  the  old?  Is 
there  to  be  no  sowing  and  reaping,  nothing  but  stand- 
ing guard  over  fruits  of  past  husbandry  and  harvest- 
ing ?  If  so — then  of  course  hope  will  be  unnecessary; 
for  ' '  the  hope  that  is  seen  is  not  hope :  for  what  a 
manseeth  why  doth  he  yet  hope  for?"  But  that  is  not 
heaven.  When  the  Bible  teaches  that  your  life  is  hid 
with  Christ  in  God — we  know  not  yet  what  we  shall 
be — that  here  we  know  in  part,  but  there  we  shall 
know  even  as  we  are  known,  it  teaches  that  the  life  of 
heaven  is  to  be  more  truly  life  than  the  present  if  it  be 
more  distinctively  a  spiritual  life,  a  life  of  faith,  a  life 
of  upward  soaring  and  of  forward  reaching  after  that 
which  is  above  and  beyond,  a  life  of  more  intimate 
communion  with  the  unseen.  That  is  to  say  it  will  be  a 
life  of  hope,  a  hope  as  much  more  exalted  and  inspir- 
ing than  that  which  now  encourages  us,  as  the  good 
which  is  there  to  be  enjoyed  and  there  to  be  longed 
for,  surpasses  all  of  which  we  have  yet  had  any  knowl- 
edge. And  if  here  a  life  of  hope,  and  of  earnest 
waiting,  of  joyous  expectation,  of  persevering  progress, 
is  nobler  than  a  life  of  sluggish  inertness,  of  dreamy 
sleepiness,  of  shallow  contentedness,  then  most  as- 
suredly will  a  life  of  purer  endeavor,  of  more  blissful 
anticipation,  of  more  earnest  purpose,  of  more  joyous 


8o  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

assurance,  sustained  by  a  richer  experience  of  Divine 
love,  surrounded  by  still  more  manifest  encourage- 
ments of  Divine  favor,  be  nobler  than  a  state  of  quies- 
cent rest,  of  ruminating  enjoyment,  of  blissful  self- 
absorption,  even  in  heaven.  Faith  and  Hope  have  a 
perennial  greatness,  that  can  never  pass  away.  The 
mind's  possessions  in  the  realms  of  both  is  boundless. 
The  prospects  which  they  reveal  to  us  are  most  cheer- 
ing and  glorious.  The  life  which  they  inspire  is  by  far 
the  worthiest  of  which  we  can  have  any  conception. 
The  deeds  to  which  they  influence  us  are  the  grandest 
that  lie  within  the  compass  of  human  performance. 
The  results  which  they  bring  are  the  most  satisfactory 
and  imperishable  of  all  which  the  soul  can  call  its 
own. 

I  But  great  as  are  faith  and  hope.  Love  is  greater. 
"And  now  abideth  faith,  hope,  charity,  these  three: 
but  the  greatest  of  these  is  charity.  Faith  and  Hope 
are  of  the  royal  household,  but  Love  is  queen. 

Let  us  consider  in  what  respects  Love  is  greatest. 
In  the  first  place,  Love  in  its  largest  exercise  includes 
Faith  and  Hope.  It  is  their  condition,  the  root  of  their 
exercise.  Without  Love,  either  is  impossible.  There 
is  indeed  a  lower  exercise  of  Faith  which  does  not 
proceed  from  love,  as  when  it  is  said  of  the  devils  that 
they  believe  and  tremble.  That  however  is  an  exercise 
which  is  hardly  deserving  of  the  name  Faith.  It  is 
simply  the  assent  of  the  intellect  to  a  fact  which  cannot 
be  denied.  It  is  extorted,  compulsory.  The  evidence  of 
that  which  is  believed,  is  too  overwhelming  to  be  resisted  ; 
it  crushes  the  soul  into  silence.  The  mind  can  no  more 
help  believing  it,  and  admitting  its  existence  than  the 
eye  can  help  seeing  when  the  image  is  formed  on  the 
retina,  or  than  the  sensorium  can  help  feeling,  when 
the  nerves  are  affected  by  any  cause  producing  pleasure 


SERMONS.  8 1 

or  pain.     There  is  no  merit,   no  nobleness  about  that. 
That  is  not  Christian  faith. 

This  is  voluntary.     It  is  active,  not  passive. 

It  unites  itself  to  its  object,  clasps  it,  embraces  it, 
clings  to  it,  saying  to  it — "  Mine,  mine  forever!  "  And 
in  other  feelings  or  rather  in  another  phase  of  the  same 
feeling — "Thine,  thine  forever!  "  Now  it  says  of  God 
— "He  is  mine,"  and  again  it  says  to  God,  "I  am 
thine. "  Now  it  says  of  Christ,  ' '  Mine  !"  and  then  it  calls 
out  to  him — "Thine  !  "  But  this  you  see  is  very  much 
like  love.  It  is  just  such  language  as  love  uses.  It  is 
indeed  of  the  very  essence  of  love.  One  cannot  thus 
speak,  feel,  or  act  toward  an  object,  unless  he  has  first 
loved  it.  One  cannot  thus  cast  himself  on  another, 
surrender  himself  to  another,  identify  himself  with  an- 
other, without  loving  him.  One  cannot  thus  dwell  on 
any  reaHty,  calling  it  up  continually  before  the  mind, 
feeding  the  soul  on  its  beauty  and  fullness,  until  it  be- 
comes vividly,  constantly,  and  indispensably  present, 
unless  one  has  first  loved  it.  On  the  other  hand  one 
cannot  love  an  object  without  exercising  faith  in  it.  If 
it  were  not  trustworthy,  it  could  not  be  loved ;  and  being 
loved  it  must  needs  be  trusted,  it  must  receive  the 
affectionate  reliance  of  the  heart.  One  is  a  faith  work- 
ing by  love,  the  other  is  a  love  working  by  faith. 

In  like  manner  it  may  be  said  that  love  includes  hope. 
If  a  man  love  God,  he  will  hope  to  know  more  and 
more  of  him,  to  come  into  more  intimate  communion 
with  him.  If  a  man  love  Christ  he  will  hope  to  see 
more  of  his  glory,  to  taste  more  of  his  goodness  and 
preciousness,  to  partake  more  of  his  image.  If  a  man 
love  the  Holy  Spirit,  he  will  hope  for  a  larger  outpour- 
ing of  his  grace,  and  for  a  fuller  indwelling  of  his  pres- 
ence. If  a  man  love  his  fellows  he  will  hope  in  their 
behalf  for  their  progress  and  prosperity,    and  for  new 


»2  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

opportunities  of  aiding  and  serving  them.  If  a  man  love 
the  Church  of  God  he  will  hope  for  its  growth.  If  he 
love  his  work  he  will  hope  for  success.  If  a  man  love 
holiness,  he  will  hope  for  more  and  more  of  partici- 
pation in  its  life  and  blessings.  As  was  remarked  of 
Christian  faith,  so  it  may  be  remarked  of  Christian  hope; 
it  is  a  hope  working  by  love,  and  a  love  working  by 
hope. 

Secondly :  the  superiority  of  Love  to  Faith  and  Hope, 
may  be  seen  in  the  fact  that  Love  is  the  end  to  which 
the  others  minister.  It  is  true  that  all  the  other  graces, 
faith  and  hope,  depend  on  Love,  as  the  light  of  the 
lamp  depends  on  the  oil  that  feeds  it.  Take  love  away, 
and  all  would  perish.  To  quench  love,  and  then  bid 
men  to  believe  or  hope  would  be  like  dividing  the  main 
artery,  and  expecting  the  heart  to  keep  on  beating. 
But  it  is  just  as  true  that  love  is  the  end,  as  that  it  is 
the  source  of  all  other  graces.  Faith  and  Hope  are 
appropriative  powers  in  the  spiritual  life.  They  are 
faculties  of  acquisition.  It  is  their  nature  to  take  pos- 
session of  those  great  and  blessed  realities,  which  are 
essential  to  our  life,  to  hold  them  for  the  soul's  benefit, 
to  obtain  out  of  them  nourishment,  strength  and  joy. 
Their  action  is  mostly  reflexive,  tending  back  to  our- 
selves. But  man  was  not  made  for  himself.  He  was 
not  made  to  gather  up  treasures  for  his  own  use  and 
delight  only.  Appropriation  and  possession  are  not 
the  end  of  his  living.  The  treasures  which  he  possesses 
are  to  be  bestowed  again.  The  strength  which  he  ac- 
quires is  to  be  used  again.  The  joy  which  flows  in 
upon  him,  must  flow  out  from  him  again.  And  it  is  in 
that  which  goeth  out  from  a  man  that  his  true  life  con- 
sists. It  is  here  that  we  look  for  character,  personality, 
influence,  holiness,  in  their  largest  measure,  and  in  their 
ripest  results.     It  is  here  that  the  image  of  God  shines 


SERMONS.  ■  83 

forth  with  the  greatest  brightness,  and  that  God's  glory 
in  man  is  most  abundantly  revealed.  And  this  brings 
me  to  remark : 

Finally,  the  greatest  of  all  graces  is  love,  because  it 
is  most  Godlike.  What  is  the  character  of  God?  Is 
it  that  of  a  being  who  lives  only  in  himself,  who  is  ab- 
sorbed in  the  contemplation  of  his  infinite  perfections, 
who  concentrates  all  his  energies  in  the  production  of 
his  own  happiness?  What  is  the  life  of  God?  Is  it 
that  of  acquisition,  of  ingathering,  of  self-ministration  ? 
Is  he  an  infinite  vortex  into  which  all  things  are  drawn 
and  in  which  all  things  are  lost?  Nay!  call  him  rather 
an  infinite  Heaven,  eternal  in  its  depth,  inexhaustible 
in  its  fullness,  forever  pouring  forth  streams  of  health, 
of  power  and  of  joy.  Call  him  the  great  central  sun 
of  all  existence,  who  radiates  light  and  life  and  blessed- 
ness to  the  uttermost  recesses  of  being.  The  life  of 
God  is  one  of  communication,  of  inspiration.  He  is, 
as  the  Apostle  James  calls  him,  "The  giving  God." 
He  is  forever  bestowing  himself  and  whatever  is  best 
and  most  precious  in  himself  on  others.  It  is  true  that 
all  things  are  in  him  and  through  him  and  for  him ; 
that  he  has  created  all  things  for  his  own  glory.  But 
what  does  this  mean  ?  Is  it  to  make  them  the  subjects 
of  arbitrary  regulations,  which  look  only  to  his  own 
gratification  and  exaltation  ?  Far  from  it.  To  say  that 
God  has  made  all  for  his  glory,  whatever  else  it  may 
mean,  means  more  than  all  else,  that  he  has  made  all 
for  his  love,  for  love  is  the  glory  of  God.  He  glorifies 
himself  by  glorifying  his  love.  He  created  all  in  love. 
We  acknowledge  no  necessity  in  God  to  create,  other 
than  the  necessity  of  loving.  It  is  no  evidence  of  im- 
perfection in  him  that  he  desired  (I  had  almost  said 
yearned)  to  be  surrounded  by  a  universe  of  holy  beings, 
in  whom  his  glory  might  be  reflected,  whom  he  might 


84  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

love,  and  who  might  find  their  highest  joy  in  imitating 
and  responding  to  his  love.  It  was  much  rather  an  evi- 
dence of  his  perfection.  And  now,  having  created  such 
beings,  his  ever  blessed  life  accomplishes  itself  in  the 
perpetual  communication  of  his  fullness  to  them.  The 
life  of  God  is  a  life  of  giving,  a  life  of  love.  Yea,  in 
the  incarnation  of  Christ,  it  reveals  itself  as  a  life  of 
service.  He,  the  highest  of  all,  appears  in  Christ  as 
the  servant  of  all.  I  say  then  that  a  life  of  love,  a  life 
of  self-surrender,  of  self-forgetfulness,  of  self-sacrifice,  of 
humble  and  affectionate  service,  of  devotion  to  the  well 
being  of  others,  and  of  consecration  to  the  glory  of 
God  is  the  most  Godlike  life  possible  to  man.  By 
such  a  Hfe  we  become  like  our  Father  in  heaven.  He 
is  pleased  with  our  faith  and  he  deserves  to  be  trusted, 
but  in  his  own  life  he  has  no  need  of  faith.  He  takes 
delight  in  our  hope,  he  invites  us  to  hope  and  encour- 
ages its  exercise  ;  but  he  himself  is  above  hope.  But 
he  is  especially  pleased  with  our  love,  for  God  himself 
is  love  ;  and  in  nothing  is  his  infinite  greatness  more 
shown  than  in  his  infinite  love.  Now,  therefore,  there 
abideth  faith  hope,  love,  these  three,  but  the  greatest  of 
these  is  love,  for  God  is  Love. 

And  now,  behold  these  three  witnesses  for  the  truth 
of  God,  essential,  irresistible,  eternal.  Faith,  Hope, 
Love,  glorious  Trinity  of  graces!  What  a  testimony 
they  furnish  to  the  Divine  origin  of  the  gospel,  to  its 
power  and  perpetuity  !  How  triumphantly  they  vindi- 
cate the  adaptation  of  Christianity  to  man's  nature,  its 
fitness  to  be  the  determining  factor  of  his  destiny  ! 
What  other  system,  what  other  reHgion  is  there  which 
can  give  such  vitality  and  potency  to  these  exalted  ex- 
ercises? How  does  faith  fare  outside  of  the  gospel? 
It  can  scarcely  be  said  to  exist.  Scarcely  a  trace  of  its 
presence  can  be  found.     It  is  overpowered  by  the  do- 


SERMONS.  85 

minion  of  sense.  There  it  wages  a  fruitless  struggle 
with  unbelief,  fruitless  because  it  finds  so  little  to  jus- 
tify or  to  support  it.  In  one  system  it  is  contemptu- 
ously set  aside,  its  place  usurped  by  science,  falsely  so- 
called — everything  is  refused  which  can  not  be  under- 
stood or  accounted  for.  In  another  system  it  is  per- 
verted to  superstition,  the  victims  of  which  believe 
only  in  that  which  makes  the  soul  crouch  and  cower 
in  abject  servility.  In  another  system  yet,  it  runs  into 
fanaticism,  which  may  indeed  inspire  the  soul  for  a 
time,  but  which,  at  the  same  time,  intoxicates  it;  be- 
wildering its  vision  and  disturbing  its  equilibrium,  while 
the  intoxication  lasts,  leaving  the  soul  prostrate,  imbe- 
cile, helpless,  when  it  is  gone.  How  does  hope  fare 
without  the  gospel?  There  is  no  hope.  It  is  the  lit- 
eral truth  which  Paul  affirms  of  the  heathen  that  ' '  they 
are  without  hope."  That  light  which  shines  in  the 
uplifted  eye  as  the  fore  gleam  of  heaven,  that  looks 
into  futurity,  which  shines  with  the  anticipation  of 
the  glory  to  be  revealed,  is  not  to  be  found  where 
Christ  is  unknown.  To  the  world  which  has  never  re- 
joiced in  the  life  and  immortality  brought  in  through 
the  gospel,  the  future  is  a  blank,  a  vacuity,  if  not  an 
abyss  of  despair.  Its  hope  is  at  best  a  sickly  senti- 
ment, a  blind  yearning,  a  longing  agony  ;  while  at  the 
worst,  and  to  most  it  is  a  fitful  dream,  an  elusive 
phantom,  a  fatal  mockery.  How  fares  it  with  love 
where  Christ  is  a  stranger?  It  is  stifled  by  doubt;  it 
is  driven  out  by  fear ;  it  is  paralyzed  by  unbelief;  it  is 
consumed  by  the  feverish  tortures  of  superstition,  or 
crushed  by  the  burdensome  observances  of  self-right- 
eousness. God  is  the  unknown  god ;  man  to  man  is 
an  alien. 

Nay,  my  hearers,  that  faith  which  makes  the  unseen 
world  a  present  reality,  which  makes  man  a  seer  of  the 


86  LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 

invisible,  which  gives  him  the  strength  that  comes 
from  communion  with  the  Eternal,  which  is  the  victory 
that  overcometh  the  world,  is  the  product  of  the  Gos- 
pel which  bids  man  to  believe  and  live.  That  hope 
which  makes  him  a  denizen  of  two  worlds,  which  con- 
stitutes him  the  heir  of  immortality  and  incorruption, 
of  boundless  being  and  of  endless  life,  that  hope  by 
which  in  a  world  of  doubt  and  darkness  we  are  saved, 
is  the  gift  of  the  Comforter,  whose  voice  brings  glad 
tidings  to  the  nations.  That  love  which  is  the  blessed 
fulfillment  of  the  law,  which  embraces  God,  which 
clasps  the  world,  which  annihilates  self,  which  conquers 
death,  which  triumphs  over  the  grave,  is  shed  abroad  in 
our  hearts  by  that  Holy  Ghost,  the  gift  of  which  makes 
the  gospel  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation.  These 
are,  one  and  all,  the  fruits  of  the  cross  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  These  are  pov/ers  of  the  world  to  come, 
of  that  glorious  gospel  dispensation  which  has  come 
upon  us  with  the  fullness  of  the  blessing  of  the  Infinite 
God.  And  this  is  the  gospel  which  is  preached  to 
you  to-day.  It  is  the  gospel  preached  by  Paul,  the 
Apostle  of  Faith,  who  testifies:  "I  know  whom  I  have 
believed."  "  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God  who 
loved  me  and  gave  himself  for  me."  It  is  the  gospel 
preached  by  Peter  the  Apostle  of  Hope,  who  ex- 
claimed :  ' '  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  which  according  to  his  abundant  mercy, 
hath  begotten  us  again  into  a  living  hope."  It  is  the 
gospel  preached  by  John,  the  Apostle  of  Love,  who 
says:  "  We  love  him  because  he  first  loved  us."  "  God 
is  love,  and  he  that  dwelleth  in  love,  dwelleth  in  God, 
and  God  in  him."  Nay,  it  is  the  gospel  preached  by 
Him  who  is  the  trust,  the  hope,  the  love  of  all  His  peo- 
ple to  all  eternity.  He  who  is  the  author  and  finisher 
of  our  faith,  who  is  the  ocean  of  our  love.  He  is  come 


SERMONS.  Sy 

that  we  might  have  life  and  might  have  it  more  abund- 
antly, for  He  fills  our  life  here  and  our  destiny  here- 
after, with  the  infinite  possibilities  of  every  grace  and 
privilege,  and  power,  which  finds  its  life  in  Himself  Oh, 
the  blessed  gospel  of  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ!  With 
these  essential,  imperishable,  Divine  witnesses  to  its 
truth,  to  the  unsearchable  riches  of  the  grace  which  it 
ministers  here,  to  the  ever  increasing  weight  of  glory 
with  which  it  crowns  the  hereafter,  how  mighty  are  the 
appeals  v/hich  it  makes  to  us !  Is  it  not  worthy  of  all 
acceptation  from  us?  Is  it  not  the  extreme  of  folly  to 
reject  it?  Is  not  this  to  rob  our  souls  of  the  truest 
life,  of  their  most  perfect  growth,  of  their  only  bliss? 
Let  us  open  our  hearts  to  receive  it.  Let  us  learn  now 
the  precious  exercises  of  the  faith,  the  hope,  the  love, 
which  the  gospel  both  gives  and  requires.  Then  will  all 
things  be  ours,  life  and  death,  things  present  and  things 
to  come,  all  will  be  ours,  and  we  shall  be  Christ's  as 
Christ  is  God's. 


II. 

STRENGTH. 

Ephesians6:  lO.     "  Finally  my  brethren,  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power 
of  his  might." 

One  of  the  principal  idols  of  this  age  is  strength. 
Some  ages  seem  to  have  admired  especially  vastness, 
size :  witness  the  pyramids  of  Egypt,  and  the  gigantic 
monuments  of  Nineveh  and  Babylon.  Others  have 
worshipped  grace,  beauty :  witness  the  temples  and 
statues  of  Greece.  Others  have  idolized  grandeur, 
pomp :  witness  Rome,  its  Pantheons,  Amphitheaters, 
festivals  and  triumphal  processions.  Ours  bows  the 
knee  to  strength.  A  very  significant  indication  is  the 
name  by  which  it  is  sometimes  called — "the  age  of 
Iron."  This  name  which  the  ancients  applied  in  a 
figurative  sense  to  a  former  age  is  true  in  a  literal  sense 
of  ours.  The  manifold  uses  to  which  iron  is  now  put 
are  highly  characteristis  of  the  times.  Iron  roads, 
iron  bridges,  iron  ships,  iron  houses,  iron  monuments, 
iron  ornaments — iron  everywhere.  Whatever  the  age 
disbelieves  in,  it  certainly  believes  in  iron.  And  not 
only  in  its  material  life  must  it  have  iron,  but  also 
in  man,  in  character.  The  representative  man  of 
one  of  the  leading  nations  of  the  world  a  few  years 
ago  was  known  as  the  "Iron  Duke."  The  represent- 
ative man  of  the  strongest  power  of  to-day  has  been . 
(88) 


SERMONS.  89 

called  by  his  admirers  the  man  of  blood  and  iron. 
The  ideal  man  of  the  Age  is  the  strong  man.  The 
Bible,  too,  believes  in  strength.  It  teaches  us  that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  strong  Christian ;  that  the 
strong  Christian  makes  the  strong  man.  As  every  man 
ought  to  be  a  Christian,  so  every  Christian  ought  to  be 
strong.  "I  bow  my  knee  to  the  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  that  he  would  grant  you  according  to  the 
riches  of  his  glory  to  he  strengthened  with  might  by  his 
spirit  in  the  inner  man."  "Watch  ye:  Stand  fast  in 
the  faith:  quit  you  like  men:  be  strong.''  "Thou, 
therefore,  my  son,  be  strong  in  the  grace  which  is  in 
Christ  Jesus."  "Finally,  my  brethren,  be  strong  in  the 
Lord  and  in  the  power  of  his  might."  Let  us  consider 
these  exhortations :  what,  in  the  Christian  sense  espe- 
cially, it  is  to  be  strong;  then,  why  we  are  exhorted  to 
be  strong  in  the  Lord ;  how  Christ  is  the  source  of  the 
true  strength  of  man. 

I.    What  is  it  to  be  Strong? 

In  judging  of  strength  we  must  not  do  it  by  compar- 
ison only.  There  is  in  the  physical  world  no  absolute 
standard  of  strength.  We  are  not  to  judge  of  the 
strength  of  one  particular  thing  or  class  of  things  by 
the  strength  of  any  other  thing  or  class.  We  have  no 
right  to  require  in  everything  the  strength  of  iron. 
The  branch  of  a  tree  has  not  the  strength  of  the  beam 
of  an  engine,  but  it  does  not  follow  that  the  branch  is 
weak.  There  is  an  immense  comparative  difference  in 
point  of  strength  between  the  trunk  of  an  oak  and  a 
blade  of  grass,  and  yet  the  blade  is  strong  no  less  than 
the  tree.  It  may  even  hold  up  its  head  through  the 
same  tornado  which  lays  the  oak  low.  No  one  would 
dream  of  requiring  the  leg  of  the  spider  to  sustain  the 
weight  which   rests  on  that  of  the  horse,  and  yet  the 


90  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

spider's  leg  is  strong.  We  are  to  judge  of  the  strength 
of  everything  in  view  of  its  own  uses  and  ends,  and  we 
are  to  say  that  strength  is  the  adaptation  of  every  in- 
dividual thing  to  sustain  itself,  and  to  secure  the  ends 
of  its  existence  amid  the  various  forces  by  which  it  is 
acted  upon.  Look  at  the  tree.  There  is  the  trunk, 
the  branch,  the  leaf  There  is  also  the  strength  of  the 
trunk,  the  strength  of  the  branch,  and  the  strength  of 
the  leaf-stem.  The  strength  of  the  trunk  is  its  adap- 
tation to  sustain  the  weight  of  the  whole  tree,  amid 
all  the  forces  which  act  upon  it.  The  strength  of  the 
branch  again  is  its  adaptation  to  support  the  lesser 
weight  of  branchlets  and  leaves  which  it  has  to  bear,  and 
to  sustain  itself  amid  the  forces  which  act  upon  it.  The 
strength  of  the  little  stem  by  which  the  leaf  hangs  is 
its  adaptation  to  sustain  the  life,  and  to  support  the 
weight  of  the  leaf  Whenever  cither  of  these  fails  par- 
tially to  fulfill  its  functions,  whenever  the  antagonistic 
forces  without  overcome  it,  it  thereby  discovers  itself 
to  be  weak.  Whenever  the  failure  becomes  entire, 
whenever  the  hostile  forces  without  gain  a  complete 
mastery  over  the  self-sustaining  forces  within,  the  indi- 
vidual dies.  Death  is  accordingly  the  extreme  point  of 
weakness;  utter  failure  to  sustain  one's  self;  final  ex- 
haustion. So  also  the  .strength  of  man  is  his  adaptation 
to  sustain  himself  so  as  to  answer  the  purposes  of  his 
existence,  and  so  of  the  component  parts  of  man. 
The  strength  of  each  faculty  is  its  ability  to  main- 
tain itself  properly  in  its  relations  to  all  other  fac- 
ulties and  forces,  and  to  do  all  that  can  by  right  be  re- 
quired of  it.  A  man's  intellect  is  strong  in  proportion 
to  its  ability  to  meet  properly  all  the  demands  of  truth. 
A  man's  feelings  are  strong  in  proportion  to  their 
power  to  satisfy  the  requirements  made  on  them  by 
beauty,  goodness  and  law.    A  man's  loill  is  strong  when 


SERMONS.  91 

it  holds  its  own  amid  opposing  and  contending  forces, 
and  is  not  overpowered  by  them.  A  man's  conscience 
is  strong  when  it  keeps  itself  from  being  warped  or 
blunted.  When  either  of  these  faculties  fails  in  these 
respects  it  is  a  sign  of  weakness,  and  man  is  so  far 
weak.  When  they  all  fail,  when  the  whole  man  is  ren- 
dered utterly  impotent  to  sustain  himself  in  his  true  hu- 
manity, to  meet  properly  all  his  spiritual  responsibili- 
ities,  he  becomes  dead.  Spiritual  death  is  extreme, 
utter,  spiritual  weakness. 

It  follows  that  one  indispensable  condition  of  the 
strength  of  any  whole  is  the  harmonious  adaptation  of 
all  its  parts  to  their  several  ends.  The  strength  of 
the  tree  is  made  up  of  the  strength  of  each  branch, 
branchlet,  twig  and  stem.  The  strength  of  the  body 
depends  on  the  strength  of  each  of  its  parts.  He  is  not 
the  strong  man,  who  has  a  stalwart  arm  and  a  weak 
spine;  nor  he  who  has  strong  muscles  and  weak  nerves; 
but  he  who  is  strong  throughout,  every  limb,  muscle, 
and  nerve  of  whom  is  adequate  to  its  functions.  And 
here  we  are  liable  to  be  imposed  upon,  we  are  often  in 
danger  of  being  misled  by  special  results,  and  to  account 
that  strength,  which  in  reality  is  weakness,  or  at  least 
the  consequence  of  weakness.  A  gigantic  forest-tree 
falling  with  the  crash  of  thunder,  and  crushing  scores  of 
saplings,  shrubs,  and  smaller  trees  around  it,  may  for  a 
moment  make  a  greater  impression  of  strength  than  it 
had  ever  miade  before;  and  yet  the  tree  was  really 
stronger  when  it  stood,  proudly  rearing  its  head  in  the 
storm,  flinging  out  defiantly  its  hundred  arms  so  strong, 
and  sporting  with  the  ineffectual  winds.  The  crash  of 
its  fall,  and  the  ruin  of  its  feebler  brethren  of  the  forest, 
are  the  consequences  of  its  final  weakness,  not  the  evi- 
dence of  greater  strength.  The  explosion  of  a  steam- 
engine,  the  terrible  concussion  heard  for  miles  around, 


92  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

and  the  scattering  whirl  of  its  thousand  fragments,  may 
momentarily  impress  one  with  the  idea  of  greater 
strength  of  some  sort ;  and  yet  the  engine  was  unques- 
tionably stronger  when  every  part  worked  steadily  in  its 
place,  and  when  the  giant  force  was  held  in  perfect 
control  and  docile  submission  to  the  conditions  put  upon 
it.  In  the  explosion  we  see  indeed  the  strength  of  the 
steam,  but  the  weakness  of  the  engine.  So  a  man  may 
give  signs  of  an  apparent  strength,  which  is  after  all 
weakness.  One  may  show  an  impetuosity  of  spirit, 
which  sweeps  along  like  a  torrent,  carrying  everything 
before  it,  and  which  may  be  accounted  strength, 
whereas,  in  reality  it  is  nothing  else  than  an  eruption  of 
passion,  which  ought  to  be  checked  by  the  superior 
force  of  will.  Another  may  evince  great  apparent 
strength  of  feeling  of  sympathy  of  some  kind,  which  is 
properly  mere  sentimental  weakness  arising  from  the 
lack  of  a  controlling  power  of  intelligence.  Another 
may  show  a  rigid  inflexibility  of  will,  which  may  be  mis- 
taken for  strength,  when  in  truth  it  is  only  the  inertia 
of  a  character  lacking  strength  on  the  side  of  the  finer 
sensibilities.  There  have  been  men,  especially  in  times 
of  revolution  and  anarchy — vv^itness  the  French  Revo- 
lution— men  v/ho  were  reckoned,  and  are  still  reckoned 
by  man  to  possess  great  individual  strength,  simply  be- 
cause they  lay  all  about  them  in  ruins,  although  in 
truth,  the  ruin  was  simply  the  result  of  their  own 
weakness  to  brave  the  storm.  Their  power,  if  such  it 
may  be  called,  was  that  of  a  dead  log,  hurled  by  the 
torrent  which  it  has  no  strength  to  resist,  not  that  of 
the  lightning,  which  in  its  own  strength  leaps  out  of  the 
cloud,  and  cleaves  the  tall  pine  in  twain. 

True  strength  then  implies  perfect  self-control;  that 
man  should  be  complete  master  of  himself  and  be  mas- 
tered by  nothing ;  that  all  the  component  forces  which 


SERMONS.  93 

make  up  his  being  should  be  kept  in  harmony,  and 
held  in  ricjhtful  subordination  to  the  great  ends  of  his 
existence.  Whenever  any  one  usurps  the  mastery  over 
the  rest,  it  is  a  sign  of  weakness,  and  the  man  becomes 
a  slave.  The  strong  man  is  the  only  free  man.  "He 
that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than  the  mighty ;  and  he 
that  ruleth  his  own  spirit  than  he  that  taketh  a  city." 

These  general  considerations  will  prepare  us  for  the 
Christian  idea  of  strength.  As  Christianity  is  the 
restoration  of  humanity  to  its  original  idea  through  a 
special  Divine  agency.  Christian  strength  must  be  the 
true  strength  of  man  produced  and  developed  in  ac- 
cordance with  that  Divine  agency.  We  may  say  that 
Christian  strength  is  tJiat  ivhicli  adapts  man  to  act  07it 
his  true  self,  his  regenerated  self,  amid  and  against  all^ 
counter  forces  front  ivitJwnt,  and  at  the  same  time  to  pre- 
serve  the  inward  harmony  of  all  his  pozvers,  and  of  those 
divine  forces  ivhicJi  accompany  the  tiew  life  in  the  soul. 
Really  as  the  true  Christian  alone  is  the  true  man,  so 
Christian  strength  is  alone  the  true  strength  of  man. 
For  sin  makes  man  weak ;  it  destroys  his  adaptation  to 
maintain  and  to  live  out  his  true  self.  He  must  be  de- 
livered from  sin  before  he  can  become  really  strong, 
and  as  Christ  is  man's  salvation  from  sin,  it  follows  that 
Christ  is  the  true  strength  of  man. 

But  let  us  examine  the  matter  a  little  more  closely, 
and  consider  some  of  the  reasons  why  the  apostle  in 
the  text  exhorted  the  Ephesians  to  "be  strong  i7i  the 
Lord  and  in  the  power  of  his  might. 

2.    Christ  is  the  true  strength  of  man. 

1st.  Because  he  establishes  harmony  within  man.  Sin 
is  discord,  disunion,  disorganization.  It  sets  man  at  vari- 
ance with  himself.  It  makes  tzvo  where  God  designed 
there  should  be  but  one.     In  every  department  of  hu- 


94  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

man  nature,  in  every  faculty  of  the  soul,  in  thinking, 
in  feeling  and  in  acting,  we  see  this  two-ness  when  there 
should  be  one-ness,  division  where  there  ought  to  be 
union.  We  see  it  in  the  intellectual  nature  of  man. 
His  views  of  right  are  continually  coming  in  conflict 
with  his  views  of  expediency.  Every  day  his  convic- 
tions of  duty  clash  with  his  ideas  of  utility.  The 
path  of  integrity  and  the  path  of  profit  seem  fre- 
quently to  cross  each  other  at  right  angles.  Some- 
times right  itself  seems  doubtful.  Sometimes  duty 
itself  seems  divided.  There  seem  to  be  two  pole- 
stars  in  his  heavens,  and  he  is  often  at  a  loss  which 
to  take.  The  same  division  exists  in  his  affections. 
The  Law  of  the  Right  pulls  him  by  the  one  hand ; 
self-interest  pulls  him  by  the  other.  Truth  shines  be- 
fore him  with  the  quiet,  beautiful  light  of  a  star;  he 
loves  it — error  gleams  before  him  with  the  dazzling 
brilliancy  of  a  meteor;  he  is^ fascinated.  Virtue  ap- 
pears to  him  in  calm  serene  beauty,  and  he  humbles 
himself  at  her  feet  and  swears  eternal  allegiance.  Vice 
follows  with  her  pleasure-train,  entangles  him  in  her 
wiles  and  lures  him  away  from  his  first  love  and  devo- 
tion. He  knows  not  his  own  heart.  Not  only  are 
there  two  poles  in  his  heavens,  but  there  are  two  mag- 
nets in  his  vessel;  one  points  hither  and  one  thither; 
which  shall  he  follow?  His  will  again  seems  divided. 
Now  he  wills  the  right  and  now  the  wrong.  At  one 
time  he  chooses  virtue,  again  he  chooses  vice.  Yester- 
day he  did  an  act  of  benevolence ;  to-day  he  performs 
an  act  of  unmitigated  selfishness.  He  has  a  double  self 
— as  he  has  two  pole-stars  over  head  and  two  magnets 
in  his  vessel,  so  also  he  has  two  rudders  directing  him ; 
and  alas !  for  the  most  part,  he  chooses  his  evil  star, 
he  follows  the  erring  magnet,  he  obeys  the  Devil's 
rudder  and  drifts  away  from  God  into  the  gulf  of  eternal 


SERMONS.  95 

death.  Such  a  division  is  of  necessity  weakness.  A 
ship  which  should  have  on  board  two  different  magnets, 
pointing  to  two  different  poles,  two  opposing  rudders, 
two  propelling  engines,  the  one  working  against  the 
other,  two  sets  of  officers  countermanding  each  other's 
orders,  could  make  no  headway.  It  could  accomplish  no 
voyage,  it  must  inevitably  be  wrecked.  A  State  which 
should  have  two  governments,  two  bodies  of  rulers,  two 
codes  of  laws,  two  supreme  courts,  irreconcilably  op- 
posed each  to  each,  could  have  no  internal  strength ;  it 
must  crumble  to  pieces. 

An  individual  who  should  have  two  pairs  of  lungs, 
one  absorbing  life  into  the  blood,  the  other  poison  ; 
two  hearts,  one  diffusing  the  poisoned  blood  through 
the  system,  the  other  diffusing  the  pure;  two  brains, 
the  one  picturing  realities  to  the  mind,  the  other  pic- 
turing lies,  would  perforce  be  weak  and  grow  ever 
weaker,  and  soon  would  die  of  sheer  exhaustion.  Even 
so  man  when  divided  against  himself,  when  he  has 
witliin  him  two  contending  principles,  two  opposing 
forces,  can  not  help  being  spiritually  weak.  "  If  a 
Kingdom  be  divided  against  itself,  that  Kingdom  can 
not  stand, "  says  Christ;  "and  if  a  house  be  divided 
against  itself,  that  house  can  not  stand."  May  we  not 
add,  "  if  a  man  be  divided  against  himself,  that  man 
can  not  stand." 

But  Christ  gives  harmony.  He  makes  one.  "He 
is  our  peace."  He  makes  man  a  unit,  and  thus  gives 
him  strength.  As  union  is  the  strength  of  the  many, 
so  unity  is  the  strength  of  the  one — Christ  gives  man 
one-ness.  He  harmonizes  all  his  pov/ers  and  makes 
him  a  unit.  Christ  gives  unity  to  the  understanding. 
On  this  account  he  is  called  "  Light  " — "I  am  the  light 
of  the  world  ;  he  that  folio weth  me  shall  not  walk  in 
darkness,  but  shall   have  the  light  of  life."     He  who 


96  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

has  the  spirit  of  Christ  knows  what  is  right.  The 
path  of  duty  is  one  before  him.  That  moral  crossness 
of  the  soul's  vision,  which  sin  induces  and  which  makes 
man  to  see  double,  is  removed.  The  spiritual  eye,  the 
light  of  the  inner  man  is  made  single,  sound,  true  to 
the  facts  'of  existence.  Man  sees  with  the  eye  of 
Christ,  and  he  walks  v/ith  a  brave,  strong  step.  ' '  The 
way  of  the  wicked  is  as  darkness,  they  know  not  at 
what  they  stumble;"  but  "the  path  of  the  just  is  as 
the  shining  light  that  shineth  more  and  more  unto  the 
perfect  day."  Christ  gives  unity  to  the  affections.  Where 
he  is,  the  heart  is  one,  the  feelings  are  not  drawn 
apart  in  contrary  directions.  They  do  not  fly  after  this 
thing  and  after  that  thing,  for  there  is  a  great  spiritual 
magnet  in  the  center  of  man's  being,  which  draws  all 
into  one,  and  keeps  all  one. 

Christ  again  gives  unity  to  the  luill.  He  makes  life 
one;  the  embodiment  of  one  principle — love;  the  out- 
flowing of  one  Spirit — His  own ;  and  thus  the  will  is 
made  strong.  It  has  one  choice — Christ :  One  thing 
to  do — the  will  of  Christ.  Man  is  enabled  to  say,  ' '  for 
me  to  live  in  Christ,"  and  he  who  can  say  that  is  the 
strongest  of  men.  He  has  strength  for  every  trial, 
and  a  "heart  for  every  fate."  But  not  only  does 
Christ  give  unity  and  strength  to  the  various  powers 
of  man's  being  individually,  but  he  gives  unity  and 
strength  to  the  whole,  by  establishing  them  in  tJieir  true 
relation  to  each  other.  He  assigns  to  each  its  rightful 
authority,  or  its  proper  subordination.  Like  some  wise 
Ruler  who  enters  an  insurgent  province  and  deposes 
the  rebels  who  have  usurped  the  power  belonging  to 
its  legitimate  governors  and  magistrates,  puts  down  the 
mob  which  would  carry  out  its  own  blind  will,  and  re- 
stores law  and  order,  so  Christ  enters  the  soul,  deposes 
those  faculties  of  sense   which  have  usurped  the  rule 


SERMONS.  97 

over  it,  puts  down  the  Avild  mob  of  passions,  and  lusts, 
which  would  make  their  blind  will  law,  gives  to  Reason 
and  Conscience  their  rightful  sway,  and  puts  love  on 
the  throne  to  rule  over  all.  He  allows  no  one  part  of 
man  to  tyrannize  over  the  rest.  The  sovereignty  of  love 
is  no  tyranny.  The  bondsman  of  love  is  the  only  free 
man.  ' '  Whosoever  committeth  sin  is  the  servant  (the 
slave)  of  sin  :"  but  "  if  the  Son  make  you  free,  ye  shall 
be  free  indeed."  Now  then,  as  that  state  is  strong, 
which  has  one  source  of  power,  one  law-making  pow- 
er, one  law-administering  power,  one  law-interpreting 
power,  each  one  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  rest,  and 
in  proper  dependence  on  them ;  as  that  commonwealth 
can  sustain  itself  against  foes  without  and  dangers 
within,  do  the  work  of  a  Sovereign  State,  and  make 
itself  a  power  in  the  world ;  as  the  ship  which  has 
one  rudder,  one  compass,  one  captain,  one  company  of 
officers,  one  crew,  with  every  man  at  his  post,  with 
every  plank  tight,  with  every  spar,  rope,  and  sail  in 
its  place,  will  prove  stronger  than  wind  and  wave,  and 
"walk  the  water  like  a  thing  of  life" — so  the  man, 
whose  bodily  organs  are  all  sound,  v/hose  heart  and 
lungs  act  harmoniously,  whose  brain  and  nerves  are  in 
perfect  sympathy,  all  of  whose  muscles  and  limbs  play 
in  blithe  obedience  to  his  will,  and  whose  pulse  joy- 
ously beats  time  to  the  pulse  of  nature  is  the  strong 
man  physically;  so  he,  whose  intellect  is  one  with 
itself,  whose  heart  is  one  with  itself,  whose  will  is 
one  v/ith  itself,  whose  whole  being  is  one  with  itself, 
and  who  is  thus  made  one  by  Christ,  who  thinks  Christ, 
who  feels  Christ,  who  lives  Christ,  is  the  strong 
Christian,  the  strong  man.  He  is  strong  with  the 
strength  of  Christ.  "Strong  in  the  Lord  and  in  the 
power  of  his  might."  Christ  is  the  true  strength  of 
man  because  he  restores  man  to  the  true  use  and  end 


98  LLEWELY    lOAN    EVANS. 

of  his  existence.  Nothing  can  be  strong  when  perverted 
to  wrong  uses — we  have  seen  that  nothing  can  be 
strong  which  is  not  harmonious,  in  all  its  parts,  and 
one  with  itself.  But  by  this  harmony  we  understand 
the  fitness  of  each  part  to  do  its  duty  in  reference  to 
the  whole,  and  the  adaptation  of  the  whole  to  do  the 
duty  of  the  whole.  By  the  harmony  of  the  tree  we 
understand  the  fitness  of  the  buds  and  leaves  to  do 
their  duty,  the  fitness  of  the  stems  to  unite  the  buds 
and  leaves  to  the  branches,  the  fitness  of  the  branches 
to  unite  the  whole  to  the  trunk  in  one  tree,  so  as  to 
answer  the  purposes  of  the  tree's  existence.  The  tree 
is  strong,  only  when  the  whole  tree,  and  all  its  parts, 
answer  every  purpose  of  their  existence.  If  the  bark 
were  stripped  off  for  other  purposes  than  to  protect  the 
channel  by  which  the  sap  is  conveyed,  if  the  branches 
were  twisted  into  fantastic  shapes,  or  crushed  by  heavy 
loads,  instead  of  supporting  the  leaves  and  fruit,  if  the 
buds  were  all  picked  off  to  be  used  for  ornamental  pur- 
poses, the  tree  would  be  a  failure ;  it  would  become 
weak  and  die. 

The  pleasure  yacht  with  its  exquisite  curve  of  side 
and  bow,  its  light  spars  and  slender  rigging,  which  is 
so  strong  in  the  race,  would  prove  utterly  weak  if  em- 
ployed to  carry  a  heavy  cargo  of  iron ;  v/hile  on  the 
other  hand  the  coal  barge  with  its  blunter  outlines,  its 
broad  prow,  flat  keel,  and  heavy  beams  would  only  be 
laughed  at  in  the  regatta.  The  camel,  the  ship  of  the 
desert,  so  strong  on  its  native  sands,  would  be  perfectly 
helpless  in  the  cold  of  Greenland ;  while  the  reindeer 
which  bounds  so  swiftly  and  so  strongly  over  the 
northern  snows,  would  be  worse  than  useless  in  an 
African  Caravan.  So  man  is  strong  only  when  he  an- 
swers the  purpose  of  his  existence. 

Whenever  any  single  faculty  is  perverted,  whenever 


SERMONS.  99 

he  fails  to  answer  the  purpose,  which  God  in  his  cre- 
ation designed  him  to  answer,  he  becomes  utterly 
weak,  spiritually  dead.  Every  power  of  man  is  strong, 
the  whole  man  is  strong  only  when  that  end  is  accom- 
plished for  which  he  was  made.  What  then  is  the  end 
of  man?  Let  God  himself  make  answer.  "I  have 
created  him  for  my  glory. "  Man  was  made  to  shov/ 
forth  the  glory  of  God,  to  express  as  far  as  he  m.ay 
that  which  is  glorious  in  God.  This,  indeed,  is  the  de- 
sign of  all  things.  "The  Lord  hath  made  all  things  for 
himself."  "  All  thy  v^'orks  shall  praise  thee,  O  Lord." 
Man  has  the  capacity  to  express  more  of  what  is  di- 
vine, more  of  what  is  glorious  in  the  Infinite  than  all 
the  works  of  God.  It  is  said  that  he  was  made  "in 
the  image,"  in  the  likeness,  "after  the  similitude  of 
God."  He  is  to  express  not  only  the  greatness,  the 
power,  the  wisdom  of  God,  but  his  holiness,  his  truth 
and  his  love. 

But  alas  !  Sin  has  marred  it  all.  Man  is  no  longer 
a  complete  Revelation  of  the  Divine.  He  no  longer 
unites  with  the  heavens  in  declaring  the  glory  of  God. 
The  stars,  indeed,  pure  as  when  the  "morning  stars 
sang  together,  and  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy," 
still  roll  on — 

"Forever  singing  as  they  shine, 
The  hand  that  made  us  is  Divine." 

The  lily  still  wears  the  loveliness,  and  breathes  the  fra- 
grance of  its  native  Eden,  reminding  us  that  Earth  is 
ever  dear  to  heaven.  But  man — Oh !  Man  is  Ichabod 
— his  glory  is  departed,  he  has  lost  the  uses  of  his 
being,  he  has  forgotten  why  he  is  here.  The  Prophet 
of  the  Most  High  has  buried  his  commission.  Divine 
messages  committed  to  him,  like  the  Sybil's  leaves,  are 
scattered  to  the  four  winds,  and  he  himself  is  become 
a  "feeder  of  the  herds  and  swine."     The  High  Priest 


lOO  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

of  Jehovah,  anointed  to  minister  in  his  Temple,  and 
to  enter  daily  into  the  Holiest  of  Holies,  has  become 
an  unclean  thing.  Urim  and  Thummin  are  speechless 
on  his  breast,  he  sets  up  golden  calves,  and  says  to  him- 
self, "These  be  thy  gods."  The  Vice-gerent  of  the 
King  of  Heaven,  whom  his  Lord  has  crowned  with 
glory  and  honor,  and  made  to  have  dominion  over  the 
work  of  his  hands,  is  become  an  idiot,  who  trifles  with 
the  crown  placed  on  his  brow,  and  plays  with  the 
sceptre  put  in  his  hands,  as  though  they  were  mere 
baubles.  "  How  is  the  gold  become  dim,  how  is  the 
most  fine  gold  changed  ;  the  stones  of  the  sanctuary 
are  poured  out  in  the  top  of  every  street.  The  precious 
sons  of  Zion,  compared  to  fine  gold,  how  are  they  es- 
teemed as  broken  pitchers,  the  work  of  the  hand  of 
the  potter." 

But  Christ  creates  man  anew  in  the  image  of  God, 
and  thus  restores  him  to  his  true  uses.  Christ  is  the 
image  of  God ;  to  be  like  Christ  is  to  be  like  God.  To 
be  in  the  image  of  God  is  to  be  brought  to  the  true 
use  and  end  of  humanity ;  to  fulfill  that  use  and  to  an- 
swer that  end  is  to  be  strong ;  Christ,  and  Christ  alone, 
is  the  true  strength  of  man.  And  thus  we  arrive  at  a 
more  definite,  and  at  the  same  time,  a  higher  idea  of 
strength.  If  strength  is,  as  we  have  seen,  the  adapta- 
tion of  everything  to  fulfill  its  uses,  and  if,  as  we  have 
also  seen,  the  highest  use  of  every  created  thing  is  to 
express  something  of  what  there  is  in  God,  true 
strength  must  be  power  to  make  that  expression. 

The  strength  of  the  sun  is  its  power  to  express  so 
much  of  the  Divine  brightness  and  power  as  God  has 
put  into  it.  The  strength  of  the  flower  is  its  power  to 
express  so  much  of  the  Divine  beauty  and  loveliness 
as  God  has  breathed  into  it.  The  strength  of  man  is 
his  power  to  express  so  much  of  the  Divine  truth,  of 


SERMONS.  10 1 

the  Divine  strength,  of  the  divine  tenderness,  of  the 
Divine  love,  as  God  has  inspired  into  him.  Do  we  de- 
sire then  to  be  strong?  Let  us  be  GodHke,  Do  we 
wish  to  be  Godlike?  Let  us  be  like  Christ.  Let  us  be 
in  sympathy  with  him.  Let  us  receive  his  spirit.  "In 
him  dwelleth  all  the  fullness  of  the  Godhead  bodily, 
and  ye  are  complete  in  him." 

But  once  again,  Christ  is  the  true  strength  of  man, 
because  he  inspires  man  v/ith  love.  Strictly  speaking, 
the  harmony  of  man's  being  and  his  restoration  to  his 
true  uses,  are  conditions  of  strength  rather  than 
strength  itself.  The  essence  of  that  strength  is  love. 
Love,  indeed,  is  necessary  to  those  very  conditions. 
What  but  love  harmonizes  man  ?  Whence  arise  the 
distractions  of  his  inner  hfe  but  from  the  want  of  it? 
Why  the  conflict  we  saw  in  the  intellect  between  expe- 
diency and  right,  self-interest  and  duty,  but  because 
man  seeks  himself?  Would  that  conflict  exist  if  man 
should  make  a  complete  surrender  of  himself  to  God? 
Will  not  love  decide  at  once  and  forever  that  what  God 
wills  is  best  to  be  done  ?  Can  that  heart  again  be  di- 
vided in  its  affections,  which  is  filled  with  one  great 
love  that  absorbs  all  other  feelings  into  itself?  And 
is  not  that  will  one  with  itself,  all  of  whose  acts  are 
the  spontaneous  manifestations  of  an  all-controlling 
love? 

Nearly  all  of  man's  troubles  and  perplexities  in  life 
come  from  making  himself  the  center  of  existence. 
This,  it  is  true,  seems  much  the  simplest  way  to  ar- 
range the  universe.  So,  to  the  old  astronomers,  it 
seemed  altogether  simplest  and  best  to  make  this  earth 
the  center  of  everything.  What  was  the  sun  good  for, 
but  to  give  light  to  the  earth  by  day  ?  or  the  moon  but  to 
give  light  by  night  ?  or  the  stars,  but  to  help  the  moon 
the  best   they  could  ?    Then  why  should  they  not  all 


102  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS, 

swing  about  the  earth  ?  But  it  somehow  happened 
that  the  more  they  observed  the  changes  and  motions 
of  the  sun,  moon  and  stars,  the  more  puzzled  they 
were  to  account  for  them,  the  more  crooked  became 
the  Hncs  around  this  earth-center,  and  the  more  de- 
cidedly awkward  and  rickety  became  the  universe  day 
after  day.  But  finally  one,  more  sagacious  than  the  rest, 
and  whose  heart  I  think  must  have  been  large  as  well 
as  his  brain,  ventured  to  guess  that,  possibly,  this  earth 
might  not  be  the  center  after  all ;  what  if  it  were  the 
sun  ?  And  sure  enough,  no  sooner  was  the  assump- 
tion made,  than  most  of  the  difficulties  vanished,  things 
began  to  look  a  little  safer,  harmony  reigned  once  more 
and  spheres  rung  out  their  wonted  music  as  of  old. 

And  so  when  man  makes  himself  the  central  point, 
he  is  involved  in  inextricable  perplexities.  All  is  in 
confusion.  The  orbits  of  righteousness  and  truth  form 
all  sorts  of  curves.  Eternal  stars  become  wandering 
meteors ;  the  everlasting  heavens  topple  over  his  head ; 
no  logarithms  can  save  him.  He  is  a  doomed  man, 
until  he  changes  his  center  of  existence  and  quietly  sets 
himself  to  revolve  with  all  God's  creation  about  it. 
That  which  does  this  for  man  is  love.  It  makes  Christ 
his  center,  and  sets  the  soul  to  revolve  around  him. 
It  gives  stability  to  all  the  interests  and  destiny  of  man, 
and  thus  makes  him  strong.  "I  have  set  the  Lord  al- 
ways before  me:  because  he  is  at  my  right  hand,  I 
shall  not  be  moved." 

Love  again  is  the  perfect  restoration  of  man  to  his 
true  end ;  for  love  is  the  truest  expression  of  God,  and 
in  love — the  love  of  God,  of  man,  and  of  all  that  is 
spiritual,  good,  and  true,  man  fulfills  the  great  purpose 
of  his  existence. 

But  not  only  is  love  necessary  to  all  other  conditions 
of  strength ;  it  has  also  uses  of  its  own  as  an  clement  of 


SERMONS.  103 

strength.  It  absorbs  and  concentrates  all  other  feelings 
in  itself.  It  is  the  flux  which  fuses  them  all  in  one.  It 
penetrates  with  its  own  essence,  it  purifies  to  its  own 
brightness,  it  intensifies  in  its  own  glow  every  higher  and 
nobler  feeling  of  the  soul.  Love  is  Faith,  Humility, 
Hope,  Reverence,  Gratitude,  Joy,  Zeal,  all  melted  to- 
gether into  one  living  stream,  which  gushes  and  rises, 
and  heaves  until  it  overflows  all  bounds,  and  bursts 
through  the  floodgates  of  the  soul  in  one  strong  tide, 
which,  like  the  old  Ocean  Stream  of  the  Ancients,  pours 
itself  around  the  world,  and  encircles  all  being  in  its 
never  ceasing  flow.  When  now  we  remember  how 
strong  is  each  one  of  these  feelings,  that  there  is  not 
one  but  has  had  its  martyrs,  not  one  but  has  nerved 
man  to  face  adversity,  suffering,  and  death,  how  strong 
must  be  their  union,  and  how  strong  must  that  man  be 
in  whom  they  are  all  taken  up  into  a  higher  energy, 
and  blended  in  a  love  "strong  as  death,  which  water 
can  not  quench,  neither  the  floods  drown.'"* 

Love  is  strength  again,  because  it  makes  man  to  forget 
himself  He  who  is  forever  haunted  by  his  own  shadow 
is  weak.  Man  is  always  stronger  in  another,  than  him- 
self The  strong  men  of  the  world,  those  whom  we 
call  heroes,  its  Davids,  Pauls,  Luthers,  Knoxes,  its 
Mohammeds  and  Napoleons  even,  were  all  strong  in 
something  else  than  in  their  own  strength,  the  poorer 
sort  of  them  in  an  irresistible  fate  which  impelled  them 
in  their  course;  the  better  sort  in  a  God  who  inspired 
their  hearts  and  held  them  in  his  hand.  ' '  The  Lord  is 
the  strength  of  my  life"  said  David,  "of  whom  shall  I 
be  afraid."  "I  can  do  all  things,"  said  Paul,  "through 
Christ  which  strengtheneth  me."  "  Stand  thou  by  me, 
thou  true  and  eternal  God,"  was  the  prayer  of  Luther 
at  the  Diet  of  Worms.  "Hast  thou  chosen  me  for 
this  end  ?     But  I  know  for  a  surety  thou  hast  chosen 


104  LLEWELYN  lOAN    EVANS. 

me.  Ha!  then  may  God  direct  it,  for  never  did  I  think 
in  all  my  life  to  be  opposed  to  such  great  lords,  neither 
have  I  intended  it.  Ha !  God  then  stand  by  me  in  the 
name  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  shall  be  my  shelter  and  my 
shield.  Yea,  my  firm  tower,  through  the  might  and 
strengthening  of  thy  Holy  Spirit.  The  world  shall  not 
be  able  to  force  me  against  my  conscience,  though  it 
were  full  of  Devils,  and  though  my  body,  originally 
the  work  and  creature  of  thy  hands,  go  to  destruction  in 
this  cause.  Yea,  though  it  be  shattered  to  pieces, 
Thy  word  and  Thy  Spirit  they  are  good  to  me  still."  * 
****** 


III. 

COMPLETENESS. 

Col.  2 ;  lo,     "  And  ye  are  complete  in  him." 

Completeness,  fullness,  is  an  essential  characteristic 
of  true  religion.  The  Christian  state  is  one  of  com- 
pleteness. In  it  man  has  been  filled  up,  wholly  and  in 
all  his  parts  filled  up,  with  life ;  with  Christ ;  with  God. 
The  fatal  defect  of  all  false  religions  and  of  all  false  con- 
ceptions of  religion,  is  that  they  are  partial,  one  sided. 
They  take  a  part  of  religion  for  the  whole.  Man  must 
have  some  religion,  something,  at  least,  that  he  can 
with  some  show  of  reason  call  his  religion,  and  every 
form  of  religion  in  which  man  tries  to  believe  must  have 
something  in  it  of  truth  and  divineness,  something 
which  resembles,  or  is  a  part  of  true  religion.  It  must 
be  true  so  far  as  it  goes.  But  false  religion  does  not 
go  far  enough  nor  deep  enough,  and  this  it  is  which 
makes  it  fatal.  Of  all  errors  partial  truths  are  the  most 
pernicious.  Of  all  partial  truths,  partial  views  of  religion 
are  the  most  dangerous.  It  is  to  some  of  these  I  would 
ask  your  consideration  at  this  time,  in  the  hope  that  we 
may  be  led  thereby  to  understand  better,  and  to  value 
more  highly,  that  completeness  of  spiritual  development 
which  belongs  only  to  the  life  of  Christ  in  the  soul. 

The  first  form  of  false  religion  to  which  I  would  di- 
rect your  attention  is  that  which,  recognizing  the  claims 

(105) 


I06  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

of  the  intellect  in  the  man,  would  identify  religion  with 
a  creed.  This  you  will  observe  embodies  a  partial  truth. 
Religion  is  a  matter  of  belief.  That  is  but  a  partial  re- 
ligion not  worthy  of  the  name  which  docs  not  appeal 
to  the  rational  principle,  which  does  not  recognize  the 
importance  of  a  solid  healthy  intellectual  belief.  That 
religion  is  a  poor  religion  Avhich  does  not  enrich  the 
mind.  That  religion  is  a  weak  religion  which  does  not 
strengthen  the  understanding.  That  religion  is  itself 
ignoble  which  does  not  ennoble  the  intellect.  A  mere 
religious  sentimentalism  will  not  permanently  satisfy 
active  and  thinking  minds.  It  must  furnish  food  to 
such  and  to  all  for  thought  and  reflection.  And  the 
excellence  of  Evangelical  Christianity  is  shown  in  this, 
that  while  it  is  so  simple  in  its  presentation  of  the 
more  important  truths  which  are  necessary  to  salvation 
that  the  humblest  intellect  may  understand  them,  it  is 
at  the  same  time  so  rich  and  manifold  in  its  contents, 
that  the  loftiest  intellects  need  not  be  weary  in  study- 
ing them.  Let  us  now  proceed  to  study  a  few  other  of 
the  prevalent  misconceptions  in  regard  to  religion.  To 
some  minds  religion  presents  itself  as  a  mere  creed. 
It  requires  our  faith  in  central  doctrines.  And  in  re- 
ligion as  well  as  in  business,  in  government,  in  art,  in 
philosophy  and  in  politics,  what  a  man  believes  is  a 
matter  of  some  consequence.  In  all  ages  of  the  world 
good  men  have  thought  it  important  to  define  their 
views,  to  draw  the  line  as  accurately  as  they  could  be- 
tween truth  and  error.  There  never  was  a  political 
party  which  did  not  have  its  creed.  It  was  a  necessity 
that  the  Church  in  developing  its  life,  in  unfolding  its  con- 
sciousness, in  justifying  principles  and  in  assailing  error 
should  present  to  the  world  harmonious  and  systematic 
statements  of  what  it  believed.  This  necessity  recurred 
continually,  as  often  as  the  Church  entered  upon  some 


SERMONS.  107 

new  phase  of  its  life  or  as  often  as  some  new  form  of 
error  threatened  the  integrity  of  its  faith.  In  this  way 
creeds  arose.  They  were  a  necessity,  and  yet  they  had 
their  danger.  There  was  danger  lest  the  human  should 
be  exalted  into  the  place  of  the  divine.  There  Avas 
danger  lest  the  form  should  take  the  place  of  the  sub- 
stance, lest  the  spirit  which  giveth  life  having  departed, 
the  latter  should  have  pov/er  only  to  kill.  This  indeed 
has  been  too  often  the  result.  The  Church  has  too 
often  made  a  Bible  of  its  creed.  It  has  made  more  of 
the  shell  than  of  the  kernel.  Men  have  mistaken  intel- 
lectual acquiescence  in  certain  doctrines  for  faith.  One 
of  the  greatest  obstacles  to  the  progress  of  Christianity 
has  been  a  dead,  petrified  orthodoxy.  A  live  orthodoxy 
is  a  great  and  mighty  power.  Right  thinking  is  at  the 
bottom  of  all  right  doing,  it  is  the  pith  and  core  of 
every  manly,  brave,  successful  life.  But  for  the  very 
reason  that  a  living  orthodoxy  is  a  power  and  a 
blessing,  a  dead  orthodoxy  is  an  incubus  and  a  curse. 
The  best  things  perverted  are  the  most  dangerous.  A 
live  creed  is  inspiration;  a  dead  creed  is  strangulation. 
We  have  heard,  I  admit,  enough,  and  more  than  enough 
of  that  honest  doubt  in  which  some  one  has  said  there 
is  more  faith  than  in  half  the  creeds. 

I  wish  to  say  nothing  to  encourage  the  fashionable 
cant  of  the  shallow  would-be  scepticism  which  prides 
itself  on  its  doubts.  For  there  is  a  doubt  which  is 
devil-born.  No  true,  earnest  thinker  was  ever  proud  of 
his  doubts.  The  mind  was  made  for  faith ;  and  that 
mind  which  does  not  gird  itself  valiantly  to  fight  its 
doubts,  which  boasts  rather  of  the  hospitable  entertain- 
ment which  it  furnishes  to  them,  will  avenge  itself 
most  fearfully.  But  let  no  one  imagine  that  a  sleepy, 
lifeless  acquiescence  in  truth  is  faith,  or  religion.  Con- 
victions  are  not   dead   stakes  driven    into   the    mind, 


I08  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

however  firmly,  but  living  roots,  which  send  themselves 
ever  deeper,  which,  strengthening,  spread  and  lay  hold 
of  the  soul's  depths,  which  grow  up  into  pure  and 
noble  feelings,  and  into  manly  and  holy  deeds.  The 
question  is — what  is  your  creed  ?  Is  it  a  dead  trunk, 
or  a  living  tree  ?  Is  it  a  weight  loading  down  life,  or 
an  energy  lifting  it  up  ?  Is  it  a  bolster  on  which  you 
lay  yourself  down  to  sleep,  or  is  it  a  living  chariot  in 
whose  wheels  is  the  spirit  of  life,  bearing  you  on  to- 
ward the  goal  of  your  heavenly  calling?  Is  it  a  for- 
mula, or  a  faith?  Is  it  an  abstraction  in  the  brain,  or 
is  it  warm  blood  leaping  from  the  heart,  and  carrying 
life  through  the  whole  organization  ?  Thou  believest 
that  there  is  one  God.  Thou  doest  well.  The  devils 
also  believe  and  tremble.  But  wilt  thou  know,  O  vain 
man!  that  faith  without  works  is  dead?  But  as  it  is 
the  tendency  of  error  always  to  run  to  extremes,  so  we 
find  some  who  in  their  opposition  to  a  mere  creed 
religion  have  fallen  into  the  opposite  error  of  regarding 
religion  as  mere  sentiment.  The  Bible  lays  great  stress 
on  holiness.  The  production  of  a  virtuous  life,  of  a 
perfect  character,  is  again  and  again  inculcated  as  the 
great  end  of  Christianity.  In  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  Christ's  first  great  public  discourse,  he  made  it 
his  aim  to  unfold  the  law  in  the  breadth  and  fullness 
of  its  requirements.  All  through  his  public  life  we 
find  him  urging  this  and  that  duty  and  virtue.  Now 
humility,  now  consistency,  at  one  time  forgiveness,  at 
another  charity.  Duties  occupy  a  large  place  in  the 
inspired  presentation  of  Christianity.  By  their  fruits, 
says  Christ,  we  shall  know  them.  Faith  without 
works  is  dead,  says  one  of  his  apostles.  It  is  clear 
then  that  the  element  of  morality,  is  one  of  paramount 
importance.  It  can  not  be  overlooked  or  denied.  The 
only  way  to  neutralize  it,  to  make  it  mean  nothing,  is 


SERMONS.  109 

to  pervert  it,  to  cut  the  connection  between  the  out- 
ward and  the  inward  Hfc,  to  sever  morality  from  love 
and  faith,  to  contract  its  limits,  to  take  away  its  vitality. 
And  this  is  what  sin  is  ever  iniluencing  men  to  do. 
There  is  more  than  one  grade  of  morality  to  be  ob- 
served. The  lowest  of  all  is  that  which  takes  for  its 
standard  public  opinion,  the  average  social  morality  of 
the  community,  or  the  statutes  and  laws  of  the  land. 
And  this  poor,  flimsy,  fluctuating  morality  is  what  mul- 
titudes call  their  religion.  Down  in  the  secret  depths 
of  their  souls,  they  try  to  persuade  themselves  that 
this  thing  will  do  to  take  with  them  into  eternity,  and 
to  present  unto  God.  They  know  that  they  can  not 
appear  before  him  and  say:  "We  paid  no  regard  to 
right,  we  believed  in  no  such  thing  as  duty,  we  recog- 
nized no  standard  of  rectitude — no  law  to  obey."  And 
they  flatter  themselves  that  this  religion  of  Social  Law, 
of  Public  Opinion,  of  Respectability,  will  do  their  turn : 
that  when  they  appear  before  God,  they  can  present 
this  miserable  pretense  and  say:  "This  standard  of 
duty  we  found  in  the  world  about  us,  this  is  what  was 
required  of  us,  and  to  this  we  sought  to  conform," 
hoping  that  the  shortcomings  and  failures  which  they 
know  have  abounded  in  their  lives  may  be  extenuated 
on  the  poor  plea  that  they  are  no  worse  than  others. 
Terrible  delusion ! 

Think  you  that  God  will  set  aside  his  standard  for 
that  of  Public  Opinion?  that  he  will  lay  by  his  law, 
and  try  men  by  the  laws,  the  tests,  which  they  have 
manufactured.  Be  not  deceived.  The  law  by  which 
God  judges  the  world  and  will  ever  judge  it,  is  his  own. 
The  standard  by  which  he  will  try  men  is  that  which 
he  himself  has  set  up,  that  which  he  himself  has  ex- 
emplified. The  religion  which  he  requires  is  in  the  life 
of  his  Son.     Judged  by  this  standard  of  religion  which 


I  lO  LLEWEYLN    lOAN    EVANS. 

he  gives,  not  that  which  society  requires,  my  friend 
what  is  your  morahty  worth? 

There  is  another  class  of  morahty  seekers  who  differ 
from  the  one  just  spoken  of  in  this :  that  the  standard 
to  which  they  profess  or  strive  to  conform  is  Divine,  not 
human.  They  feel  that  it  is  not  enough  to  satisfy  the 
demands  of  society.  There  is  a  higher  judge  at  whose 
bar  they  must  appear.  Something  more  is  needed  than 
that  which  Pubhc  Opinion  requires.  The  law  of  God 
is  broader  and  minuter.  But  after  all,  their  obedience 
is  literal  and  formal  rather  than  spiritual.  Their  relig- 
ion is  external.  It  is  of  the  old  narrow  negative  pat- 
tern, of  the  Judaistic  type,  if  I  may  so  call  it.  There  is 
much  more  of  the  "Thou  shalt  not"  in  it,  than  of 
"Thou  shalt."  They  make  clean  the  outside  of  the 
cups  and  of  the  platter,  but  leave  that  which  is  within 
uncleansed.  They  have  the  form  of  Godliness ;  but  the 
power  is  not  there.  God  requires  humility.  And  you 
will  find  some  who  make  great  outward  demonstrations 
of  humility.  They  take  particular  pains  to  seem 
humble,  which  is  a  pretty  sure  sign  that  there  is  not 
much  true  humility  there.  The  truly  humble  man  is 
like  the  violet,  which  is  modest  and  lowly  for  the  very 
same  reason  that  it  is  lovely  and  fragrant,  and  which 
hides  itself  as  humbly,  and  gives  forth  as  sweet  a  per- 
fume in  the  deep  dell,  where  no  eye  sees  it  save  God's, 
as  by  the  wayside  where  every  passer  by  may  see  it. 
But  where  would  be  the  formalist's  humility,  if  he  were 
compelled  to  hide  it?  He  wears  some  of  the  badges 
of  humility,  not  humility  itself.  He  is  proud  of  what 
he  calls  his  humility.  Tell  him  that  he  is  not  humble 
and  his  pride  will  leap  at  you  like  a  trodden  serpent. 
It  lies  low  in  the  grass  till  you  tread  on  it. 

Christ  requires  self-denial.  "If  any  man  will  come 
after  me,  let  him  deny  himself."     And  some  one  pres- 


SERMONS.  Ill 

ently  bethinks  himself,  "Wherein  can  I  deny  myself? 
What  can  I  give  up?  What  can  I  do  without?"  And 
having  found  something  which  he  can  resign  without 
much  detriment  or  inconvenience,  some  sacrifice  which 
perhaps  to  the  world  seems  very  considerable,  but 
v/hich  in  reality  is  hardly  any  sacrifice  at  all,  which 
costs  nothing,  he  makes  a  great  show  of  self-denial  in 
making  that.  "He  that  taketh  not  his  cross,  and  fol- 
loweth  after  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me,"  says  Jesus. 
And  the  mere  moralist  walks  around  among  his  crosses, 
tries  one  after  the  other,  picks  out  the  lightest, — he  is 
very  careful  to  leave  behind  the  heaviest.  Who  ever 
saw  him  endure  the  soul  agony  of  the  true  cross  bearer, 
taking  up  without  a  murmur  any  and  every  cross  which 
is  put  upon  him  ?  When  a  sharp  and  heavy  cross  is 
thrust  on  him  against  his  choice,  how  he  struggles 
against  it  and  tries  to  throw  it  off — but  this  light,  easy 
cross,  which  he  has  chosen,  or  which  perhaps  he  has 
made — for  there  is  such  a  thing  as  m.en's  manufacturing 
crosses  that  they  may  get  rid  of  the  cross  God  puts  on 
them.  Ah!  this  is  the  very  thing!  shouldering  it  as 
carefully  and  easily  as  he  can,  so  that  it  will  hurt  him 
as  little  as  possible,  he  goes  out  into  the  market  places, 
the  public  streets,  and  carries  his  cross  as  high  as  he 
can,  that  all  may  see  it.  He  brings  it  into  the  house 
of  God,  and  whenever  the  duty  of  taking  up  the  cross 
is  urged  he  feels  comfortable  in  the  thought  that  he  is 
doing  that  at  any  rate.  Do  you  call  that  bearing  the 
cross?  How  different  from  the  cross  bearing  of  Jesus, 
from  that  which  Jesus  did,  from  that  which  he  requires. 
"  He  that  loseth  his  life  for  my  sake  shall  find  it." 

But  there  is  a  higher  grade  of  morality  than  either 
of  those  which  have  been  noticed.  There  are  those 
who  are  well  convinced  that  morality  is  not  altogether 
a  thing  of  the  external — that  it  is  not  comprised  in  out- 


112  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

ward  compliances  merely.  Tliey  arc  intelligent  enough 
to  know  that  it  includes  internal  exercises,  states,  dispo- 
sitions, and  performances  of  the  heart,  a  life  within  as 
well  as  a  life  without.  There  arc  spiritual  exercises  to 
be  acquired,  and  enjoyed,  moods,  feelings,  into  which 
the  soul  is  to  be  raised,  duties  to  be  performed  by 
which  it  is  to  be  elevated.  All  this  is  included  in  re- 
ligion as  understood  by  the  higher  order  of  moralists. 
I  call  this  religious  morality,  because  after  all  it  is  but 
a  form  of  religion.  It  is  still  destitute  of  its  essential 
spirit,  of  its  vital  active  principle.  And  at  this  point, 
it  may  be  well  to  speak  boldly  of  the  difference  between 
religion  and  morality,  however  high  the  latter  may  reach  ; 
using  the  term  morality  in  that  lower  sense  in  which  it 
is  often  used,  as  contrasting  with  religion,  although  the 
propriety  of  thus  using  it  may  perhaps  be  questioned. 
Certain  it  is,  that  in  its  truest,  strictest  sense,  morality 
is  religion.  But  bearing  this  in  mind,  and  remember- 
ing that  morality  as  we  now  consider  it,  is  not  true 
morality,  using  it  to  designate  a  formal  religion  adapted 
to  satisfy  the  demands  of  a  disturbed  conscience,  let  us 
see  how  wide  is  the  chasm  between  it  and  true  religion. 
For  the  latter  is  true,  real,  the  other  as  I  have  just  called 
it,  merely  formal.  One  goes  down  to  the  foundations  of 
life,  the  other  does  not  go  below  its  surface.  Religion 
is  a  positive  thing  ;  morality  a  negative.  That  is  moved 
from  without,  this  from  within.  The  one  is  inspired  by 
love,  the  other  is  prompted  by  self-interest.  Religion 
asks — How  much  can  I  do?  Morality — How  little?  In 
the  former  you  find  purposes  which  are  born  out  of  the 
deep,  like  an  earthquake,  and  which  upturn  the  whole 
life;  in  the  latter  you  find  resolves  that  are  born  of  the 
surface  which  make  no  change  in  the  current,  but 
which  after  being  borne  along  by  it  a  little  distance 
scatter  and  vanish.     Religion  is  righteousness;  Morality 


SERMONS.  1 1  3 

self-righteousness.  And  what,  you  may  ask,  is  the  dif- 
ference between  righteousness  or  hohness,  and  self- 
righteousness?  I  know  not  how  better  to  ilhistrate  it 
than  by  calHng  the  former  a  hving  body,  the  latter  a 
petrifaction.  You  know  that  if  a  living  plant  be  buried 
in  the  earth,  it  very  often  forms  a  petrifaction. 

As  the  particles  of  organized  matter  decay,  they  are 
gradually  replaced  one  by  one  by  particles  of  earthen 
or  rocky  matter,  which,  because  they  take  the  posi- 
tion and  dimensions  of  the  decayed  particles,  assume 
their  precise  form  and  color,  until  the  whole  is  changed. 
You  have  the  plant  exactly  the  same  in  position,  size, 
shape,  as  when  it  was  first  deposited,  but  with  this 
difference :  that  whereas  at  first  it  was  composed  of  or- 
ganized matter,  it  is  now  a  stone.  In  like  manner  a 
process  goes  on  in  the  soul  of  the  self-righteous  mor- 
alist, by  which  the  life  of  whatever  good  has  found  its 
way  into  him  is  taken  away,  leaving  only  the  form, 
the  appearance.  In  the  higher  forms  even  of  mere 
morality,  we  find  an  imitation  of  religious  experience. 
The  man  is  not  satisfied  with  the  mechanical  perform- 
ance of  outward  duty.  He  feels  that  more  is  needed. 
There  must  be  feeling,  desire,  resolutions,  plans,  en- 
deavor and  enjoyment.  So  he  cultivates  these  inward 
experiences.  He  seeks  to  excite  those  feelings,  to  put 
forth  those  designs,  to  form  those  resolves  and  plans, 
to  create  that  sense  of  enjoyment  v/hich  might  be 
deemed  appropriate  to  a  religious  life.  But  there  being 
no  true  love  to  God,  no  real  communion  with  Christ  to 
sustain  that  life,  very  soon  it  begins  to  decay,  and 
pride,  vanity,  self-righteousness,  self-sufficiency,  enter 
and  fill  the  soul  experiences,  penetrating  the  whole  in- 
ward life,  taking  the  place  of  what  was  there  before, 
until  whatever  of  goodness  and  divineness  there  may 
have  been  about  these  experiences  at  first,  vanishes,  is 


I  14  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

displaced  by  selfishness  and  pride,  until  the  whole  be- 
comes a  dead,  hard  mass,  preserving  the  form,  the 
color,  the  attributes  of  a  religious  life,  but  with  no 
warmth,  no  sweetness,  no  growth.  Such,  brethren,  is 
selfishness — a  petrifaction,  petrified  righteousness.  The 
infusion  of  self  petrifies  the  whole.  The  noblest  ex- 
ercise of  spirit,  if  self  takes  possession  of  it,  is  degraded. 
The  richest  experience  of  the  soul,  if  self  worms  its 
way  into  it,  is  killed  at  the  very  core,  until  all  of  its 
sweetness  and  nutriment  dies  out  of  it.  The  best  deed 
of  the  life,  if  self  fastens  on  it,  is  smitten  with  a 
blight,  and  its  glory  and  freshness  are  eaten  as  by  mil- 
dew. That  religion  is  imperfect  which  does  not  lay  its 
claim  on  the  whole  man,  which  does  not  penetrate  and 
renovate  his  whole  being  from  center  to  circumference. 
No  religion  can  command  the  obedience  and  respect  of 
mankind  permanently,  which  does  not  commend  itself 
to  the  judgmxcnt,  which  does  not  bring  within  the  cir- 
cle of  its  influence  the  thinking  faculties. 

Some  vague,  dreamy  sentimcntalism  may  please  for 
a  time,  but  nothing  calling  itself  a  religion  can  give 
lasting  satisfaction  which  does  not  recognize  the 
claims  of  the  rational  principle  in  man.  For  man  is 
distinctively  a  rational  being.  He  is,  indeed,  a  being 
of  emotions,  of  affections — and  in  man  these  emotions 
and  affections  are  of  a  far  higher  order  than  in  irra- 
tional beings,  of  purer  essence,  of  loftier  reach  and  of 
wider  range,  of  sweeter  exercise.  But  they  are  higher, 
purer,  loftier,  sweeter,  because  man  is  endowed  with 
intelligence — with  reason,  which  brings  him  into  wider 
and  nobler  relations,  into  contact  with  beings  and  re- 
alities that  deserve  and  inspire  feelings  of  a  far  more 
elevated  order.  One  thing  corresponds  to  the  other. 
The  depth  of  the  feeling  is  proportioned  to  the  height 
of  the  intelligence.     It  is  true,  on  the  other  hand,  that 


SERMONS.  115 

the  development  of  intelligence  is  aided  by  the  power 
of  feeling  which  man  possesses.  Take  away  the  latter 
and  the  reason  would  be  shorn  of  more  than  one-half 
of  its  power.  There  is  an  element  of  feeling  in  the 
higher  operations  of  the  reason  which  cannot  be  elimi- 
nated without  serious  loss.  What  would  be  the  soul's 
perceptions  of  the  attributes  of  God,  of  Eternity,  Im- 
mortality, Beauty,  without  feeling  ?  We  may  hold 
then,  as  indisputable,  that  the  elevation  of  feeling  is 
proportionate  to  the  ennobling  of  the  intellect — that  to 
enrich  the  heart  you  must  enrich  the  mind.  To  carry 
the  feelings  you  must  carry  the  intellect.  And  this  is 
just  as  true  in  religion  as  in  anything  else.  Religion  is 
a  life,  but  it  is  a  life  which  fills  every  channel  of  the 
soul.  It  is  a  life,  not  simply  a  sentiment.  It  demands 
honesty,  rectitude,  earnestness  in  tJiovgJit  as  w^ell  as  \\\  feel- 
ing. And  let  me  tell  you :  that  religion  is  a  false  religion 
which  encourages  intellectual  indifference,  which  does 
not  promote  the  love  of  truth  and  the  earnest  purpose 
to  possess  it.  That  religion  is  shallow,  untrustworthy, 
which  makes  light  of  a  man's  belief — a  man's  creed. 
That  which  a  man  really  believes,  lies  at  the  very  bot- 
tom of  his  life.  In  rare  instances  you  will  find  a  man 
who  is  better  than  his  creed ;  but  the  rule  is,  as  a  man's 
creed  so  will  his  character  be.  Admitting  that  some- 
times a  man  may  be  found  whose  life  is  better  than 
his  theology,  does  it  follow  that  the  life  does  not  de- 
pend on  the  belief  at  all  ?  Shall  we  deny  the  rule  be- 
cause of  the  exception  ?  Because  we  are  and  should 
be  tolerant  in  regard  to  men,  are  we  therefore  to  be- 
come lax,  indifferent,  in  regard  to  errors  ? 

Are  v/e  to  withhold  our  condemnation  of  dangerous 
doctrines,  because  this  or  that  man  was  a  good  man 
in  spite  of  them  ?  Not  at  all.  Because  in  one  or  in  a 
few  some  good  influences  have  neutralized  the  poison 


Il6  LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 

of  the  error,  the  error  is  none  the  less  a  poison.  That 
rehgion,  I  say  then,  can  not  be  the  right  rehgion  which 
encourages  indifference  in  behef.  Charity  is  one  tbJng, 
indifference  is  altogether  another  thing.  The  excel- 
lency of  Evangelical  Christianity  shows  itself  in  this, 
that  while  it  is  simple,  adapted  in  its  principal  features 
to  the  humblest  comprehension,  it  is  also  rich,  deep, 
manifold.  Like  nature,  it  is  an  endless  study. 
Each  one  of  its  truths  branches  out  on  all  sides  into 
the  life.  You  can  not  take  away  one  without  leaving 
a  great  vacuum  behind  it.  How  poor,  how  barren, 
how  bleak  are  the  substitutes  of  modern  religionists, 
when  compared  with  the  fruitful  field  of  evangelical 
truth!  How  easy  to  exhaust  the  former;  how  inex- 
haustible the  latter !  How  dull  and  flat  the  former  be- 
come when  their  novelty  is  worn  off!  How  new  and 
varied  in  interest  does  the  latter  grow  the  older  it  be- 
comes !  If  it  fails  to  do  this,  then  thinking,  acting 
minds,  will  ultimately  reject  it.  They  will  make 
something  else  their  religion — science,  literature,  art. 
This  in  fact  has  been  the  case  in  all  countries  and 
ages  where  religion  has  degenerated  into  sentimental- 
ism.  The  stronger  minds  have  acquired  the  habit  of 
looking  down  on  it  as  something  appropriate  only  for 
women,  children,  emotional,  mystically  inclined  people, 
or  the  lower  superstitious  orders,  those  who  are  ruled 

by  feeling  and  impulse 

The  gospel  is  a  gospel  of  sweetness,  but  it  is  also  a 
gospel  of  power.  It  provides  truth  in  its  simplicity, 
even  milk  for  babes.  It  provides  truth  in  its  sweetness 
— sweeter  than  honey,  or  the  droppings  of  honey-comb. 
It  also  provides  solid  food  for  a  manly  maturity.  Every- 
one that  useth  milk  is  unskillful  in  the  word  of  righteous- 
ness— for  he  is  a  babe.  But  strong  meat  (solid  food) 
belongeth  to  them  that  are  of  full  age,  even  those  who 


SERMONS.  117 

by  reason  of  use  have  their  senses  exercised  to  discern 
between  good  and  evil.  Therefore  leaving  the  (ele- 
ments) principles,  let  us  go  on  unto  the  perfection  of 
the  doctrines  of  Christ. 

We  have  considered  two  forms  of  false  religion ;  the 
one  recognizing  the  claims  of  the  intellect  seeking  to 
satisfy  itself  with  a  creed ;  the  other,  recognizing  the 
claims  of  the  sensibilities,  contenting  itself  with  mere 
sentiment.  And  now — my  hearers — let  us  ask  ourselves 
how  do  we  expect  to  meet  the  claims  which  God  makes 
upon  us?  Do  we  seek  to  content  ourselves  with  the 
mere  form  of  Godliness  ?  Is  our  righteousness  anything 
more  than  self-righteousness?  Is  our  faith  that  living 
faith  which  adds  to  itself  knowledge,  and  which  worketh 
by  love  ?  Is  our  religion  a  life  which  makes  itself  felt 
in  every  part  of  our  being?  Let  us  remember  that 
God  demands  the  whole  man ;  the  intellect,  the  affec- 
tions, the  will,  the  thoughts,  the  motives,  the  purposes, 
the  deeds,  the  Hfe  within,  the  life  without.  Nay  more ; 
He  demands  completeness,  perfection  in  knowledge, 
perfection  in  love,  perfection  in  life.  There  is  a  day 
coming  when  our  religion,  whatever  it  be,  will  be  tested 
by  the  light  of  God's  throne ;  tested  by  the  fires  of  his 
judgment.  There  is  a  day  coming  when  the  great 
question  with  each  one  of  us  will  be — Have  I  that , 
v/hich  will  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  infinitely  just  and 
holy  God  ?  My  friend,  there  is  but  one  way  of  satisfy- 
ing these  demands.  If  you  can  say, — Christ  is  mine  !  you 
can  meet  God  without  a  fear.  There  is  salvation  in  no 
other.  To  know  Christ,  this  alone  is  life  eternal.  Count 
all  things  but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  this  knowledge. 
Make  this  knowledge  the  substance  and  essence,  the 
warp  and  woof  of  all  your  creed.  To  love  Christ;  to 
love  him  with  a  love  which  comprehends  the  divine 
mystery  of  his  love,  a  love  which  even  passes  knowl- 


I  1 8  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

edge,  a  love  which  trusts  all  to  Christ,  which  hopes  for 
all  from  Christ,  which  yields  all  to  Christ,  which  does 
all  for  Christ,  — this  feeling,  this  sentiment  alone  will  fit 
you  for  that  heavenly  fellowship  with  Christ,  wherein 
alone  eternal  blessedness  will  be  found.  To  love  Christ, 
to  show  his  spirit,  to  reproduce  his  character,  to  meas- 
ure all  your  life  by  his,  to  count  all  things  but  loss  that 
you  may  win  Christ,  to  do  the  work  of  God,  to  work  as 
Christ  worked,  to  be  his  fellow  laborer,  tliis  is  the  only- 
life  which  can  endure. 


7V. 

CHEERFULNESS  IN  GIVING. 

2  Corinthians  9:  7,  (latter  part).     "  God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver." 

The  emphasis  of  this  declaration  Hes  in  the  word 
"cheerful."  God  of  course  loves  the  giver,  the  man 
who  freely  bestows  of  what  he  has  on  those  who  are  in 
need ;  the  man  who  considers  that  it  is  a  nobler  thing 
to  be  a  cloud  distilling  mercy  and  blessing  on  the  place 
beneath,  and  exhausting  itself  in  the  act,  rather  than  a 
vortex  into  which  many  things  are  draAvn,  but  out  of 
which  nothing  is  ever  seen  to  come  forth.  There  are 
men  who  are  like  the  daughter  of  the  horse-leech,  for- 
ever crying,  Give  !  Give !  There  are  men  who  seem  to 
believe  that  everything  and  everybody  were  made  for 
them.  They  have  never  learned  the  truth  of  the  prov- 
erb :  ' '  There  is  that  which  scattereth  and  yet  increaseth. " 
They  have  never  discovered  the  secret  of  becoming 
rich  and  of  feeling  rich.  Love's  paradox  of  giving  with- 
out impoverishing  is,  to  the  selfish  man,  an  absurdity 
or  a  mystery.  Such  a  man  the  Lord  loveth  not.  He 
is  wholly  unlike  to  God.  There  is  no  point  of  sym- 
pathy between  his  life  and  the  Divine  life.  There  is  no 
principle  in  him  v/hich  can  delight  in  God ;  there  is  no 
quality  in  him  in  which  God  can  delight.  Not  so  with 
the  giver.  He  whose  life  is  a  perpetual  effluence  of 
goodness,    charity,    goodwill,    who  radiates   as   well  as 

(119) 


120  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

absorbs,  who  is  the  servant  of  others,  the  benefactor  of 
all  whom  he  can  reach,  is  a  man  beloved  of  God.  For 
God  is  a  giver.  He  reveals  himself  as  the  giving  God. 
Everything  which  he  does  is  a  gift.  Creation,  Provi- 
dence, Redemption,  all  the  Divine  operations  are  pro- 
cesses by  which  the  All-bountiful  One  is  ever  giving 
away  something  of  infinite  beauty  and  worth.  As  the 
sun  would  cease  to  be  a  sun  were  it  no  longer  to  radiate 
light  and  heat,  so  God  would  cease  to  be  God,  were  he 
no  longer  to  give.  And  because  God  is  such,  he  loves 
the  giver. 

But  this  general  truth  being  assum.ed,  Paul  affirms  in 
the  text  that  God  loves  cheerfulness  in  giving.  What- 
ever may  be  God's  reason  for  loving  the  giver,  the  same 
are  his  reasons  for  loving  the  cheerful  giver.  If  he 
loves  the  giver,  because  he  himself  is  a  giving  God,  he 
loves  a  cheerful  giver  because  he  himself  is  a  cheerful 
giver.  To  give  and  to  give  cheerfully  are  indeed  in 
God's  mind  one  and  the  same.  To  give  grudgingly, 
reluctantly,  to  give  with  the  hand,  what  the  heart 
would  keep,  to  wish  back  again  what  has  been  given, 
to  give  of  necessity,  under  compulsion,  from  fear,  for 
appearance  sake,  from  self-interest,  that  is  not  what 
God  calls  giving  at  all.  For,  in  giving,  the  motive  and 
the  manner  are  everything.  Why  a  man  gives,  and 
how  a  man  gives,  are  of  much  greater  consequence 
than  what  he  gives,  or  how  much  he  gives.  And  there- 
fore Christ  commended  the  poor  widow  who  cast  in  her 
two  mites  into  the  treasury,  above  the  many  rich  folks 
that  cast  in  much.  "Verily,  I  say  unto  you:  That 
this  poor  widow  hath  cast  more  in  than  all  they  which 
have  cast  into  the  treasury.  For  all  they  did  cast  in  of 
their  abundance :  but  she  of  her  want  did  cast  in  all 
that  she  had,  even  all  her  living."  God  accounts 
nothing  a  gift  unless  the  whole  heart  goes  with  it.     The 


SERMONS.  121 

merest  mite,  when  Love  presents  it  as  her  best,  is  a 
gift  more  royal  than  a  kingdom.  A  throne,  when 
selfishness  parts  with  it,  is  held  of  less  account  than 
the  ashes  into  which  fire  might  burn  it. 

But  we  may  go  still  further  and  say  that  the  same 
God  who  loveth  a  cheerful  giver,  loves  cheerfulness  in 
everything.  I  have  said  already  that  God's  life  is  one 
of  giving.  It  follows  therefore  that  as  man's  Hfe  is  to  be 
like  God's,  his  true  life  is  also  one  of  giving.  It  con- 
sists in  perpetual  self-impartation ;  in  the  bestowal  of 
one's  property,  thoughts,  affections,  and  entire  life  upon 
others.  God  loves  cheerfulness  in  all  things,  and  de- 
sires that  all  the  gifts  of  the  life,  of  the  mind,  the  heart, 
the  tongue,  as  well  as  the  hand  should  be  fragrant  with 
its  essence.  Look  back  over  the  past.  Think  of  the 
multiform,  never  ceasing  activities  of  the  mind  during 
the  twenty,  forty,  fifty,  or  seventy  years  of  your  life, 
and  of  all  the  thoughts  to  which  those  activities  have 
given  birth.  You  cannot  realize  it  at  once.  Think  of 
all  the  thoughts  which  spring  up  in  the  mind,  or  which 
come  floating  and  drifting  through  it,  one  knows  not 
whence,  in  a  single  day.  You  have  all  of  you  stood 
over  a  fountain  and  watched  the  bubbling  waters  as 
they  came  up  and  up  out  of  the  earth,  in  endless,  rising 
columns,  and  you  have  with  difficulty  persuaded  yourself 
that  it  is  only  dead  mechanical  pressure,  and  not  a  liv- 
ing agent,  which  produces  the  results  before  you.  You 
visit  it  to-day  and  the  drops  well  up  and  roll  away; "to- 
morrow, and  it  is  the  same ;  the  next  day,  and  it  is  as 
busy  as  ever,  and  your  arithmetic  fails  you  in  comput- 
ing the  drops  and  bubbles  that  spring  there  forever. 
And  so  for  years  have  thoughts  been  welling  up  in 
your  soul,  not  as  regularly,  nor  alas!  as  purely  as  the 
drops  in  the  fountain,  and  what  has  become  of  them  ? 
You  have  forgotten  all  but  a  few;  they  have  gathered 


122  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

together  like  the  dews  of  the  vapor,  and  stand  over  the 
past,  massed  together  in  dim  overshadowing  clouds. 
The  past  is  like  a  fog,  into  which  you  can  see  but  a 
little,  but  is  it  all  dead?  Are  those  thoughts  all  lost 
and  vanished  forever?  Nay,  let  no  one  think  that. 
Hope  not  for  that,  ye  whose  thoughts  have  been  idle, 
vain,  unworthy  it  may  be,  and  vile,  such  as  ye  might 
wish  were  buried  forever.  Fear  not  that,  ye  whose 
thoughts  have  been  of  divine  and  holy  themes,  pene- 
trated with  sweetness  and  heavenly  joy,  such  as  ye 
could  pray  might  be  your  companions  forever.  They 
are  not  buried ;  they  are  not  lost,  they  are  with  God. 
The  all  important  question  is,  how  did  we  render  them 
to. God?  Did  we  deliver  them  into  his  hands  humbly 
and  cheerfully,  as  the  free-will  offerings  of  pure  and 
loving  hearts?  Or  did  they  escape  from  us,  as  against 
our  consent,  that  they  might  be  witnesses  against  us  in 
the  coming  Judgment? 

The  first  conditions  of  cheerful  lives,  are  cheerful 
thoughts.  Thoughts  are  the  staple  of  our  lives.  As 
we  think  and  feel  about  things,  so  shall  we  act  in  respect 
to  them.  Now  I  need  not  say,  that  God  desires  to  re- 
ceive our  thoughts  as  daily  sacrifices  of  thanksgiving 
and  joy.  But  the  character  of  our  thoughts  depends 
on  the  character  of  their  objects.  If  the  object  is  poor 
and  worthless,  the  thought  will  be  such.  If  the  object 
is  beautiful  and  Divine,  the  thought  will  have  the  same 
character.  Hence  the  repeated  admonitions  of  Scripture 
to  fasten  our  affections  on  Divine  things ;  because  these 
alone  can  be  evolved  into  harmonious,  and  cheerful 
thoughts,  pleasing  God.  They  "breed  within  us  per- 
petual benedictions. "  They  are  born  of  God,  who  is 
light,  and  they  carry  with  them  the  brightness  and  the 
gladness  of  light.  The  nearer  we  come  to  the  sun,  the 
great  centre  of  light,  the  less  and  the  fainter  will  be  the 


SERMONS.  123 

shadows.  The  reason  why  we  behold  so  many  shadows 
now  is  because  we  live  so  low,  because  we  so  rarely 
take  our  flight  above  the  clouds,  because  we  so  seldom 
climb  to  the  "shining  table-lands,  to  which  our  God 
himself  is  moon  and  sun." 

It  is  not  of  course  to  be  expected  in  this  life,  that  the 
soul  should  be  in  a  perpetual  transport  of  joy.  It  should, 
however,  find  its  equivalent  in  a  divinely  sustained 
cheerfulness,  which  will  be  a  constant  testimony  to  the 
ever  conscious  presence  of  God's  love  around  us  and 
within  us.  We  are  to  be  earnest,  serious,  no  doubt. 
We  must  never  forget  the  great  end  of  living.  We 
must  abhor  all  trifling,  all  foolery,  all  petty  frittering 
away  of  time  and  opportunity.  We  must  live  "as  ever 
in  our  Great  Taskmaster's  eye." 

But  there  is  nothing  in  this  incompatible  with  the 
utmost  cheerfulness.  Indeed  it  may  be  said  that  only 
the  thoughtful,  sober-minded  man,  who  has  a  clear  and 
distinct  understanding  of  the  reality  of  life,  and  of  the 
momentous  interests  which  hang  on  it,  can  be  truly 
cheerful. 

There  may  be  merriment,  gaiety,  frivolity,  among 
the  thoughtless  and  the  careless,  but  true  cheerfulness 
is  unknown  except  to  the  heart  at  peace  with  itself, 
at  peace  with  God.  The  earnest  consecration  of  the 
life  to  its  great  purpose  is  therefore  indispensable  to 
the  possession  and  manifestation  of  that  cheerfulness 
which  God  loves. 

Bearing  this  in  mind,  I  repeat  that  it  is  every  man's 
duty,  by  earnest  meditation  on  all  that  is  pure,  elevat- 
ing, and  spiritually  inspiring,  by  the  constant  reception 
of  all  holy  and  Divine  influences,  to  cultivate  bright 
and  blessed  thoughts,  which  shall  diffuse  their  gentle 
glow  through  all  the  inner  life,  and  shed  their  beaming 
luster  over  all  the  actions.      Let  him  think  cheerfully  of 


124  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

God.  He  is  not  a  cold,  distant,  inaccessible  Being, 
surrounded  by  impenetrable  barriers,  shrouded  in 
eternal  gloom,  a  stern,  inflexible  Fate,  or  an  adaman- 
tine, inexorable  Law,  or  a  blind  and  Soulless  Force. 
He  is  alive  with  sympathy,  aglow  with  love,  radiant 
with  invincible  attractions,  ever  witlx  us,  nearer  to  us 
than  all  others,  bending  over  us  with  a  brow  of  love, 
telling  each  one  of  us  "I  am  thy  Father;  come  unto 
me,  my  child ;  tell  me  thy  wants ;  speak  to  me  of  thy 
sorrows ;  cast  on  me  thy  cares ;  declare  thy  joys.  I 
am  ever  near  thee  to  guide  and  save  thee.  Re- 
ceive my  Spirit ;  let  him  teach  thee  to  call  me,  Abba, 
Father." 

Think  cheerfully  of  life.  It  is  not  a  blank  void, 
a  blank,  thorny  path,  a  dull  routine  of  lifeless  perform- 
ances, a  dreary  succession  of  vacancies  and  disappoint- 
ments. It  is,  if  we  choose  to  make  it  so,  if  we  submit 
to  the  discipline  which  God  appoints  for  us,  a  blessed 
and  glorious  opportunity,  the  promising  beginning  of  a 
career  of  progress,  of  ever  increasing  knowledge,  ca- 
pacity and  power.  If  it  has  its  losses,  it  has  also  its 
gains.  If  there  is  much  bitterness  in  it,  there  is  more 
that  is  sweet.  If  we  are  surprised  with  unexpected 
griefs,  how  much  oftener  are  we  not  surprised  with 
unexpected  pleasures.  If  there  is  much  to  regret  for 
in  the  past,  how  much  more  is  there  to  hope  for  in  the 
future.  If  there  are  many  uncertainties  before  us,  how 
much  more  numerous,  how  much  more  real  and  pre- 
cious the  certainties. 

Let  us  think  cheerfully  of  the  world.  It  is  not  going 
to  irretrievable  ruin.  It  is  not  growing  worse  from  year 
to  year  and  from  age  to  age.  Our  fellow-men  are  not 
sunk  in  hopeless  imbecility  and  corruption.  The  well- 
being  of  society  is  not  absolutely  dependent  on  the  suc- 
cess of  this  agency  or  of  that  institution.      When  one 


SERMONS.  125 

or  two  men  die,  the  hopes  of  humanity  will  not  be 
buried  with  them.  A  few  failures  are  not  a  defeat. 
Retrogression  if  an  occasional  fact,  is  not  the  law. 
God  is  not  dead,  has  not  taken  himself  away  and  left 
the  world  to  its  chances.  Evil  is  not  stronger  than 
Good.  Error  is  not  mightier  than  Truth.  Brute  Force 
will  not  forever  be  a  match  for  the  Free  Mind.  Cun- 
ning will  not  always  get  the  upper  hand  over  Hon- 
esty. The  world  will  not  die  in  its  delusions  nor  give 
up  the  ghost,  hugging  its  lies  to  its  heart.  The  Bless- 
ing, thank  God,  is  slowly  rem.oving  the  Curse.  Thorns 
and  thistles  are  making  way  for  the  golden  grain  and 
the  blushing  fruit.  The  light  is  advancing,  the  day  is 
breaking,  one  by  one  old  errors  and  superstitions  are 
slinking  to  their  caves  to  die,  while  new  Truths  and 
Powers  are  coming  forth,  as  it  were,  out  of  their  graves, 
equipped  for  the  battle,  conquering  and  to  conquer. 
The  seed  of  goodness,  of  heroism,  of  patriotism,  of 
true  religion  never  perishes.  It  propagates  itself  from 
generation  to  generation,  and  the  spot  from  which  the 
Reaper  bears  away  the  ripe  sheaf  now,  will  hereafter 
wave  with  the  hundred-fold  harvest.  There  is  much 
for  which  to  thank  God  in  the  evidence  with  which 
history  and  experience  abound,  that  he  has  not  left  man 
to  himself  Things  are  not  altogether  as  discouraging 
even  as  they  look.  When  all  seem  given  up  to  idol- 
atry, and  the  Lord's  prophet  maketh  intercession,  say- 
ing, "Lord,  they  have  killed  thy  prophets  and  digged 
down  thine  altars,  and  I  am  left  alone  and  they  seek  my 
life:"  What  saith  the  answer  of  God  unto  him?  *'  I 
have  reserved  to  myself  seven  thousand  men,  who  have 
not  bowed  the  knee  to  the  image  of  Baal."  Good 
Cometh  even  out  of  Nazareth.  The  foam  comes  to  the 
surface,  while  pearls  lie  hidden  in  the  deep.  Out  of 
failure    comes    humility;     out  of    humility    strength. 


126  LLEWELYN    lOAN   EVANS. 

"Throuj^^h  'the  shadow  of  the  globe  wc  sweep  into  the 
younger  day."  The  God  of  Prophecy  is  the  God  of 
History.  The  world  is  gradually  preparing  for  that 
new  Pentecostal  Baptism,  which  is  to  dedicate  it  a  ves- 
sel for  new  and  long  service  in  the  Temple  of  Jehovah. 
Let  us  think  cheerfully  of  the  church.  It  is  not  a 
dead  skeleton,  or  an  effete  fossil.  It  is  not  as  yet  an 
antiquated  relic,  curious  only  as  illustrating  the  super- 
stitions of  the  Past.  Neither  is  it  altogether  an  empty 
shell  of  formalism,  out  of  which  the  spirit  of  life  has 
departed.  It  is  not  pure,  but  it  is  nevertheless  the  salt 
of  the  earth.  It  has  its  divisions,  but  it  has  also  its 
unity.  Hypocrisy  may  lurk  like  a  snake  within  its 
fold,  but  the  flov/er  of  sanctity,  nestling  in  its  shelter, 
grows  fairer  there  than  elsewhere.  Its  influence,  al- 
though unseen,  and  apparently  small,  is  yet  widely 
spread,  deep,  and  lasting.  It  is  not  to  be  measured 
either  by  its  external  bounds.  For  as  "he  is  not  a 
Jew  which  is  one  outwardly:  but  he  is  a  Jew,  which  is 
one  inwardly,"  so  all  who  believe,  and  who  walk  in 
the  steps  of  the  faith  of  our  father  Abraham,  are  the 
children  of  Abraham,  blessed  with  him,  and  heirs  of 
the  promise  which  he  received.  We  may  rejoice  there- 
fore that  the  Church  is  broader  than  those  visible  and 
necessary  limits  by  which  it  is  separated  from  the 
world ;  and  while  we  may  well  mourn  that  there  is  so 
much  of  the  world  in  the  Church,  we  may  give  thanks 
that  there  is  not  a  little  of  the  Church  in  the  world : 
in  other  words,  that  there  is  so  much  of  real  Chris- 
tianity outside  of  our  ecclesiastical  organizations.  The 
Kingdom  of  heaven  is  as  Christ  described  it,  like 
leaven,  spreading  upwards,  downwards,  sideways,  and 
in  all  directions,  diffusing  everywhere  its  purifying,  en- 
nobling, regenerating,  and  elevating  influences,  raising 
the   standard   of  social  and   private  morality,  giving  a 


SERMONS.  127 

higher  tone  to  public  sentiment,  dislodging  vice  and 
corruption  from  one  stronghold  after  another,  putting 
the  brand  of  infamy  on  whatever  is  dishonorable  and 
base,  making  the  pursuit  and  observance  of  virtue 
easier  to  all  who  honestly  and  faithfully  undertake  it. 
The  church  with  all  its  imperfections  and  shortcomings 
is  still  precious  to  God. 

"  Dear  as  the  apple  of  his  eye 
And  graven  on  his  hand." 

Although  at  times  the  fire  burns  low,  and  it  seems 
chilly  and  gloomy  enough,  it  is  j^et  the  hearthstone  of 
God's  household  in  this  world,  the  home  of  the  Chris- 
tian brotherhood,  where  heavenlier  joys  abound,  and 
diviner  pleasures  flow,  than  in  any  other  spot  on  earth 
not  similarly  consecrated  by  the  presence  and  love  of 
God. 

Let  us  think  cheerfully  of  our  age.  It  is  not  the 
worst  age  known  in  history.  The  bad  men  of  our  time 
are  not  monsters,  the  like  of  whom  have  never  been 
seen.  The  good  men  of  our  times  are  not  degenerated 
beloAv  comparison  with  the  good  men  of  the  past.  He- 
roism is  not  entirely  extinct,  neither  is  it  altogether  infe- 
rior in  quality.  Virtue  is  not  at  its  very  lowest  ebb. 
Dishonesty,  fraud,  peculation,  sensuality,  all  forms  of 
immorality  are  not  more  rife  than  they  have  been.  God 
knows  that  they  abound,  that  there  is  enough — and 
more  than  enough — of  them  to  occupy  the  utmost  energy 
of  every  worker  and  soldier  of  the  Lord.  But  it  has 
always  been  so.  It  will  be  so  for  a  long  time  yet.  We 
see  and  know  and  feel  more  of  the  wickedness,  and 
misery,  and  shame  of  to-day,  than  of  the  same  things 
in  other  centuries,  because  telegraphs  and  newspapers 
bring  them  from  all  corners  of  the  world  to  our  own 
doors.  But  the  age  regarded  in  its  leading  tendencies, 
its  moving  forces,  its  purposes,  endeavors,  and  results  is 


128  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS, 

a  bright,  noble,  and  hopeful  age,  rich  with  promise, 
abounding  in  glad  pmens  of  joy  to  the  nations  of  the 
earth — an  age  in  which  we  may  well  rejoice  that  we 
are  permitted  to  live. 

Let  us  think  cheerfully  of  our  trials.  Sore,  severe 
they  may  be,  hard  to  bear,  unaccountable,  different 
from  all  we  had  hoped  for  or  had  reason  to  [expect. 
Still  they  are  not  the  worst  that  might  have  befallen 
us.  They  are  not  sent  to  crush  our  spirits,  to  break 
our  hearts.  They  do  not  subject  us  to  losses  for 
which  heaven  has  no  compensation.  They  are  not 
more  bitter,  more  insupportable  than  have  fallen  to  the 
lot  of  those  who  have  gone  before  us.  He  who  learns 
to  carry  the  cross,  will  learn  hereafter  to  carry  the  scep- 
ter. Trials  make  us  humble,  and  blessed  are  the  hum- 
ble, for  they  shall  be  exalted.  Trials  make  us  strong, 
not  in  the  consciousness  of  our  own  power,  but  in  the 
sense  of  God's  strength  made  perfect  in  our  weakness. 
Some  days  must  be  dark  and  rainy  days,  otherwise  the 
vineyard  would  yield  no  wine,  nor  the  orchard  bear 
fruit.  If  there  were  no  storms  the  atmosphere  would 
be  loaded  with  death.  If  there  were  no  clouds,  there 
would  be  no  majestic  processions  of  the  King  of  Glory 
through  the  skies. 

"  Ye  fearful  saints,  fresh  courage  take, 
The  clouds  ye  so  much  dread 
Are  big  with  mercy,  and  will  break 
With  blessings  on  your  head." 

"All  these  things  are  against  me,"  said  Jacob,  in  a 
moment  of  doubt.  "All  things  work  together  for 
good  to  them  that  love  God,"  said  Paul  in  the  full  tri- 
umph of  faith. 

Let  us  think  cheerfully  of  our  work.  It  is  indeed 
no  holiday  play.  Its  demands  are  stern  and  inexor- 
able. There  is  no  laying  down  of  arms  in  our  warfare. 
God's  soldier  once,  God's  soldier  always.     There  are  no 


SERMONS,  129 

furloiig-hs  in  the  service;  there  is  no  going  into  winter 
quarters.  Our  term  of  enHstment  never  expires.  Death 
is  promotion,  not  dismissal.  Woe  be  to  the  man  whose 
duties  have  not  been  performed,  and  who  is  not  ready 
for  higher  service!  Alas  for  him  whose  heart  has 
failed  him  ere  the  battle  of  life  is  won  !  ' '  No  man 
having  put  his  hand  to  the  plough,  and  looking  back, 
is  fit  for  the  Kingdom  of  God."  But  God's  work  is  its 
own  reward.  To  fight  is  at  the  last  to  conquer.  To 
plough  is  to  reap.  It  is  not  sowing  to  the  Vv'inds.  It 
is  not  beating  the  air.  It  is  not  running  in  vain.  It 
is  not  exhaustion,  weariness  and  then  a  long,  torpid 
sleep;  it  is  enlargement,  growth,  expansion,  a  coming 
to  the  stature  of  a  perfect  man,  and  then  a  joyous 
awakening,  a  resurrection  of  the  whole  man  to  a  new 
and  larger  life. 

Why  should  we  not  think  cheerfully  of  all  these 
things?  With  such  a  God  to  serve,  with  such  a  Father 
to  watch  over  us  and  to  bless  us,  with  such  a  Brother 
in  heaven  to  remember  and  to  love  us,  with  such  a 
Helper  on  earth  to  sanctify  and  comfort  us,  with  such 
a  heavenly  brotherhood  reaching  from  heaven  to  earth, 
and  from  earth  to  heaven  to  sympathize  with  us, 
with  such  a  world  and  such  an  age  to  live  in,  with 
such  discipline  to  chasten  and  ennoble  us,  with  such 
a  blessed  service  to  perform,  with  such  a  heaven  be- 
fore us,  why  should  we  not  be  cheerful?  Why 
should  we  not  rejoice  evermore?  What  thought 
should  discourage  us  and  take  away  our  cheer?  The 
thought  of  our  sorrows?  But  they  are  the  seeds  of 
heavenly  joys.  The  thought  of  our  losses  ?  But  what 
is  it  to  v/in  Christ?  The  thought  of  ourselves?  But 
why  think  of  ourselves?  Let  our  thoughts  then  be 
cheerful,  such  as  God  loveth.  Let  the  sunshine  of  his 
smile  be  woven  into  them  and  around  them.     Let  them 


130  T.LEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

shine  as  the  wings  of  angfcls.  Let  them  echo  the  mel- 
odies of  heaven.  If  all  our  thoughts  arc  bright,  our 
whole  lives  will  be  cheerful.  They  will  go  forth  like 
the  voices  of  spring,  diffusing  gladness,  content  and  joy 
abroad  in  the  world.  Many  a  poor  wayfarer  who  has 
sunk  down  wearied  by  the  wayside,  will  resume  his 
journey  with  a  lighter  heart,  and  a  lighter  burden,  and 
go  on  his  way  rejoicing.  Many  an  unhappy  wanderer, 
led  astray  by  false  words,  or  driven  astray,  it  may  be, 
by  harsh  ones,  may  be  restored  to  the  right  path. 
Many  a  tired  wanderer,  oppressed  by  his  foes,  whose 
heart  is  growing  fainter  and  fainter,  and  whose  blows 
fall  feebler  and  feebler,  will  take  new  courage  and  gain 
new  victories.  Many  a  discouraged  laborer,  whose 
ploughing  and  sowing  seem  to  have  been  all  in  vain,  will 
begin  anew  to  "sow  beside  all  waters,"  believing  that 

"  Grace  keeps  the  precious  germ  alive 
When  and  wherever  strown." 

Our  looks  will  be  cheerful.  There  will  be  fewer 
careworn,  pale,  troubled,  haggard  faces  in  the  world ; 
fewer  anxious,  painful,  eager  countenances,  that  seem 
to  be  peering  into  everlasting  darkness ;  fewer  dark  and 
clouded  countenances,  as  though  the  shadow  of  some 
cruel  doubt  were  forever  resting  on  them ;  fewer  moody, 
discontented  faces,  that  indicate  the  determination  to 
be  pleased  with  nothing  that  happens;  fewer  gloomy, 
morose,  misanthropic  faces,  that  are  a  declaration  of 
hostilities  against  the  whole  human  race  ;  fewer  reserved, 
impenetrable  faces,  that  keep  the  soul  in  a  state  of 
blockade  from  the  outer  world;  fewer  proud,  supercil- 
ious, freezing  countenances,  that  make  the  beholder 
shiver  in  midsummer;  fewer  suspicious  faces,  that  look 
as  though  they  conveyed  an  indictment  against  all 
mankind  in  general,  and  every  body  else  in  particular; 
fewer  selfish,  hard,  insensible  countenances,  which  seem 


SERMONS.  131 

to  say  that  the  heart  is  not  at  home ;  fewer  blank  vapid 
faces,  that  seem  to  say — nothing  at  all !  Sunny  thoughts 
will  make  sunny  faces.  Men's  looks  will  be  at  once  out- 
lets and  inlets  to  their  souls ;  outlets  by  which  their 
souls  go  forth  to  others,  to  brighten  and  to  cheer  them, 
inlets  or  windows  by  which  others  can  look  into  them. 
Men,  in  their  utterances,  their  appearances,  their  char- 
acters, their  whole  lives,  will  mirror  the  smiles  of 
Divine  Joy,  delighting  with  infinite  pleasure  in  "what- 
soever things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honest, 
whatsoever  things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  are  pure, 
whatsoever  things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of 
good  report." 

"God  loveth  the  cheerful  giver:" — who  comes  into 
his  presence  v/ith  gladness  and  thanksgiving,  whose 
songs  are  cheerful  songs,  whose  prayers  are  cheerful 
prayers,  whose  devotion  is  penetrated  with  holy  joy. 
There  ought  to  be  no  place  on  earth  more  cheerful  than 
God's  house.  It  should  be  a  place  where  the  worldly- 
minded  will  be  struck  with  the  conviction  that  there  are 
no  joys  like  those  of  religion,  no  people  so  happy  as 
those  who  can  say,  the  Lord  is  our  God.  It  should  be 
a  place  where  the  weary  feel  abundantly  refreshed, 
where  the  mourning  may  feel  comforted  ;  where  all  may 
feel  elevated  with  joy,  where  the  only  load  known 
should  be  that  of  sin,  and  where  that  should  be  known 
only  to  be  lost  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross.  God  loveth 
the  cheerful  sufferer,  the  man  or  the  woman  who  bears 
without  repining  the  afflictions  of  life,  who  submits  with- 
out a  murmur  to  its  loss,  who  even  rejoices  in  the 
thought  that  every  sorrow  and  trial  is  proof,  not  that 
God  has  forgotten  his  child,  but  rather  that  he  remembers 
his  child,  that  his  is  a  soul  beloved  of  God.  For  it  is  to 
the  glory  of  God  that  he  can  inspire  such  submission, 
such  trustfulness,   such  love,  that  his  servant  will  take 


132  LLEWELYN  lOAN  EVANS. 

even  the  bitter  cup  at  his  hands,  and  drink  it  with  cheer- 
ful resignation,  sayin^:^,  "  Father,  not  my  will,  but  thine 
be  done !"  It  is  to  the  glory  of  God  when  his  promises 
are  believed  in,  although  all  around  is  gloom  and  dark- 
ness, and  when  the  cheerful  songs  of  the  bleeding  heart 
bear  v/itness  to  the  assurance  that  even  in  his  chastise- 
ment, God  is  love. 

God  loveth  the  cheerful  worker — for  by  his  cheer- 
fulness he  bears  Avitness  to  the  delightsomeness  of  his 
service: — he  testifies  that  God's  Yoke  is  easy  and  his 
burden  is  mild,  that  he  is  the  best,  the  most  tender, 
and  just  of  masters ;  that  the  shame  and  reproach  of  his 
service  are  better  than  the  honors  and  praises  of  the 
world,  that  in  keeping  of  his  commandments  there  is 
great  reward ;  that  his  work  can  alone  satisfy  all  the 
desires,  and  capabilities,  and  scope  of  the  soul ;  that  his 
followers  have  a  hundred  fold  in  this  life,  and  in  the 
world  to  come  life  everlasting. 

It  is  our  duty  to  be  cheerful,  to  commune  with  the 
bright  aspects  of  truth,  to  look  at  the  sunward,  that  is 
the  Godward  side  of  everything,  to  come  into  sympa- 
thy with  that  Infinite  Joy  which  pulsates  in  every  act 
and  manifestation  of  God. 

It  is  a  privilege  to  be  cheerful.  Our  happiness,  our 
usefulness  will  be  increased  in  manifold  measure ;  our 
fellowship  with  God  and  with  one  another  will  be  purer, 
and  fuller,  and  we  shall  dwell  forever  in  the  favor  of 
Him,  who  as  he  loves  the  cheerful  giver,  loves  every 
one  who  cheerfully  surrenders  his  best  and  his  all  to 
the  direction  of  one  so  wise,  so  watchful,  so  good. 


V. 

THE   NEW   COMMANDMENT. 

John  13;  34.     "A  new  commandment  I  give  unto  you,  that  ye  love  one  another; 
as  I  have  loved  you,  that  ye  also  love  one  another." 

It  is  the  grand  character  of  Christianity  as  an  educa- 
tional system,  that  it  presents  truth  and  duty,  not  as 
abstractions,  not  as  barren  formulas,  but  as  incarnate 
living  realities.  The  Bible  gives  us  few  definitions,  but 
many  illustrations.  The  Eleventh  Chapter  of  Hebrews 
may  be  taken  as  a  fair  specimen  of  its  method.  The 
first  verse  is  a  definition :  the  remainder  of  the  chapter 
(and  it  is  longer  than  most,)  is  a  series  of  illustrations. 
Truth  is  not  unfolded  to  us  as  a  system,  but  dramatized 
(if  I  may  say  so)  as  a  History.  Duty  is  not  limited  to 
the  bare  prescription  of  what  is  to  be  done,  but  en- 
forced by  living  examples,  arranged  in  fair  adornments, 
and  surrounded  by  such  accompaniments  of  motion 
and  illustration,  as  serve  more  clearly  to  define,  and 
more  urgently  to  recommend  it.  Along  with  each  duty 
God  furnishes  the  standard  of  its  performance,  the 
measure  of  its  fullness.  "Be  ye  perfect  even  as  your 
Father  which  is  in  heaven  is  perfect."  "Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God,  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all 
thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  with  all  thy 
strength."  "Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thy- 
self." "I  have  given  you  an  example  that  ye  should 
do  as  I  have  done  to  you."     "As   I   have  loved  you 

(133) 


134  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

that  ye  also  love  one  another."  It  is  only  when  we 
have  raised  our  performance  to  these  inspired  standards, 
only  when  we  grow  up  in  all  things  into  Christ,  who  is 
the  head,  and  come  up  to  the  measure  of  the  standard 
of  his  fullness,  that  we  attain  unto  perfect  manhood. 
The  lesson  of  the  text  was  designed  more  immediately 
for  the  disciples,  and  it  has. still  a  specific  application 
to  his  professed  followers.  Christ's  love  for  his  disci- 
ples is  to  be  the  measure,  the  law,  of  their  love  one 
for  another.  But  the  principle  is  susceptible  of  uni- 
versal application.  Christ  loves  all  men  and  his  love 
for  all  is  the  standard  by  which  our  benevolence  is  to 
be  measured.  Moreover,  as  this  feeling  of  benevolence 
or  love  is  the  root  of  all  our  relations  and  actions 
toward  others,  we  may  state  the  principle  still  more 
broadly  as  follows :  In  all  our  relations  and  duties  and 
conduct  toward  others,  we  are  to  be  governed  by  the 
example  of  Christ.  Let  us  consider  what  this  rule  of 
action  implies,  or  in  other  words,  what  general  course 
of  conduct  toward  our  fellow-men,  is  made  obligatory 
on  us  by  the  example  of  Christ. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  the  examiple  of  Christ  requires 
that  we  should  distinguish  between  men  and  the  cir- 
cumstances. I  use  the  word  circumstances  not  merely 
in  its  later  and  restricted  sense  of  station  or  social  posi- 
tion, but  in  its  earlier  and  broader  sense,  of  all  that 
which  stands  around  one,  which  surrounds  him,  which, 
vi/ithout  being  a  part  of  the  man  himself,  belongs  to 
him.  Among  these  circumstances  we  may  mention 
rank,  wealth,  honors,  titles,  social  considerations,  party, 
family,  race.  It  is  manifest  to  begin  with  that  we  are 
very  much  influenced  in  our  judgments  and  feelings 
concerning  others  by  these  belongings  and  accidents. 
It  is  unavoidable,  indeed,  that  it  should  be  so.  It  is 
neither  possible,  nor  would  it  be   desirable,  if  it  were 


SERMONS.  135 

possible,  to  dismiss  these  considerations  altogether  out 
of  account.  Thus,  for  example,  race  is  a  great  histor- 
ical and  ethical  fact,  whose  foundations  lie  deep  in  the 
constitution  of  humanity.  It  is  a  wise  and  important 
arrangement  of  Providence  for  the  better  accomplish- 
ment of  the  work  which  the  family  of  man  is  to  do  on 
earth.  As  such  it  has  its  claims  on  us  all  who  are  sub- 
ject to  it.  There  are  certain  feelings,  and  duties  which 
belong  especially  to  each  individual  as  member  of  a  cer- 
tain race,  just  as  there  are  feelings  and  duties  which  be- 
long to  each  as  member  of  a  certain  family,  I  am 
justified  in  loving  the  nation  of  which  God  has  made 
me  one  ;  in  maintaining  its  honor,  in  seeking  its  inter- 
ests, in  aiding  it  to  accomplish  its  historical  mission  in 
the  world. 

Wealth,  again,  has  its  claims  in  our  consideration  of 
men.  Money  is  power,  in  so  far  as  it  is  a  symbol  of 
what  man  has  done,  of  what  he  has  achieved  and  of 
what  he  has  the  power  of  achieving ;  in  so  far  as  it  repre- 
sents the  confidence  which  society  places  in  his  abilities 
and  the  worth  which  it  puts  on  his  services. 

Titles  also,  rank,  official  honors,  positions  of  author- 
ity and  influence,  all  by  which  society  expresses  its 
faith  in  men,  its  appreciation  of  personal  merit,  in  the 
matter  of  social  organization,  have  the  claim  upon  a  just 
measure  of  our  regard.  Parties,  schools,  sects,  in  re- 
gard to  the  various  subjects  of  thought  and  belief  on 
which  we  are  called  to  judge  and  act,  are  unavoidable 
and  not  without  their  advantages.  They  stimulate  in- 
quiry, and  help  us  to  broader  and  juster  views.  And 
we  cannot  help  recognizing  the  bonds  which  unite  to- 
gether men  of  similar  opinions  and  aims  in  regard  to 
those  great  questions,  in  the  settlement  of  which  we  are 
all  interested. 

Circumstances,    then,    are    of   necessity   an   element 


136  LLEWELYN   lOAN   EVANS. 

which  we  cannot  disregard  in  determining  our  relations 
to  others,  as  well  as  in  determining  those  judgments 
and  feelings  which  grow  out  of  those  relations.  This  how- 
ever is  very  different  from  saying  that  circumstances  are 
the  only  or  the  principal  element  in  that  determination. 
They  are  not  to  be  left  out  of  the  account,  but  they  are 
not  to  rule.  We  cannot  consider  man  altogether  apart 
from  the  circumstances,  the  belongings,  but  we  must  not 
identify  men  with  these.  We  must  not,  however,  allow 
these  considerations  to  blind  us  to  facts  of  greater  con- 
sequence than  they  are.  We  must  not  put  that  which 
is  about  the  man,  the  dress  which  he  wears,  the  pedes- 
tal on  which  he  stands,  for  the  man  himself.  We  must 
not  confound  the  accident  with  the  substance.  Bancroft 
defines  democracy  to  be  the  doctrine  of  the  superiority 
of  man  over  his  accidents.  This  doctrine  is  not  only 
democracy ;  it  is  Christianity.  Manhood  above  race ; 
manhood  above  nationality;  manhood  above  family; 
manhood  above  money;  manhood  above  party,  man- 
hood above  every  circumstance  whatsoever,  this  is  the 
fundamental  principle  of  Christian  democratic  humanity. 
If  I  let  my  partiality  for  my  own  race  carry  me  so  far 
that  I  shall  wrong  one  of  another  race,  deny  him  any 
right  which  belongs  to  him  as  a  man,  refuse  him  any 
honor  which  is  due  to  his  worth,  withhold  from  him 
any  privilege  which  would  make  him  a  better  man,  a 
more  useful  member  of  society,  put  any  burden  on  him 
which  tends  to  crush  his  manhood,  I  sin  against  my 
brother,  I  sin  against  my  own  manhood,  I  sin  against 
Christ.  If  because  of  a  man's  family  connections,  or 
social  position,  I  wink  at  his  vices,  and  gloss  his  crimes, 
if  I  accord  to  him  a  measure  of  deference  and  respect, 
which  I  should  scorn  to  accord  to  one  less  favored  in 
his  family,  or  social  relations,  or  if  on  the  other  hand, 
because  a  man's  connections  are  humble  and  for  no  other 


SERMONS.  137 

reason  I  hold  him  at  arm's  length,  treat  him  with  cold- 
ness, indifference,  superciliousness,  a  man  whom  but  for 
this  accident  of  position  I  should  be  proud  to  honor, 
and  to  name  my  friend,  I  am  guilty  of  conduct  which 
is  unworthy  of  a  man.  Why,  the  very  fact  that  a  man 
fights  his  way  up,  rises  by  virtue  of  an  excellence  which 
is  superior  to  the  plane  in  which  he  is  first  placed,  shows 
his  worthiness  to  take  the  highest  seat,  proves  him 
one  of  nature's  noblemen,  and  this  in  despite  of  all  ad- 
verse circumstances.  This- should  be  his  surest  passport 
to  any  circle  and  to  any  heart  v/orthy  of  him.  You 
love  your  garden  and  prize  its  floral  beauties,  and  enjoy 
strolling  among  these  better  than  v/ading  through  a  bog. 
But  if  in  some  stagnant,  reedy  fen,  you  see  the  soul  of 
beauty,  nestling  in  some  lily,  which  grows  amid  the 
rank  and  slimy  weeds,  pure  as  the  brow  of  an  angel, 
you  will  gather  it  more  joyfully  and  cherish  it  yet  more 
tenderly  and  lovingly,  than  the  proudest  queen  of  the 
garden. 

If  I  let  my  party  zeal  outrun  my  charity,  if  my  love 
for  the  system  or  church  in  which  I  believe  is  exagger- 
ated  into  bigotry,  if  every  one  outside  of  my  own  cir- 
cle of  thought  and  faith  is  a  pariah,  or  at  best  a  non- 
entity, if  I  can  not  see  that  God  has  many  schools  and 
many  teachers,  and  suspect  every  man  whose  accent 
and  dialect  differs  from  mine,  I  am  verily  as  yet,  a  poor, 
blind  slave.  Where,  hearer,  do  we  stand  in  reference 
to  these  obligations  due  from  us  to  manhood  as  such  ? 
The  world  has  much  to  do  yet,  to  purify  itself  of  its 
shortcomings  in  these  respects.  Even  in  this  Demo- 
cratic and  Christian  land,  as  we  claim  it  to  be,  soci- 
ety has  many  steps  to  take  before  it  will  stand  on  that 
lofty  ground  to  which  Christ  beckons  us.  Even  here 
there  are  brands  of  degradation,  which  scarcely  the 
blood   of  heroic  daring  and   dying  is  allowed   to  wipe 


138  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

away.  There  are  classes,  to  which  its  members  are 
confined  with  httle  less  rigor  than  those  who  belong  to 
a  Hindu  caste.  There  are  circles  which  would  as  soon 
think  of  tolerating  manhood  without  money,  as  a  man 
without  a  coat.  There  are  estates  and  conditions  which 
are  like  deep  ravines,  flanked  by  declivities  and  thorny 
precipices,  from  which  it  is  all  but  impossible  to  climb. 
When  one  by  dint  of  hard  labor  climbs  very  near  the 
top,  and  already  rejoices  in  the  hope  of  planting  him- 
self on  the  summit,  too  often  the  heel  of  prejudice 
spurns  him  down  again,  with  a  plunging  crash  to  the 
bottom,  where  he  lies  bruised,  broken,  ruined,  with  no 
heart  to  try  again. 

But  what  is  the  example  which  Christ  has  left  us  in 
this  matter?  How  do  we  find  him  conducting  him- 
self toward  others?  He  looks  at  each  one  as  he  is  in 
himself,  as  a  man.  His  vision  is  never  blinded  or  con- 
fused by  any  one's  surroundings.  He  knows  just  how 
and  where  to  separate  between  a  man  and  that  which 
has  gathered  about  him.  He  knows  exactly  how  much 
is  due  to  the  circumstances,  how  much  to  the  man.  He 
understands  what  is  essential  and  what  is  accidental. 
No  one  can  hope  to  be  accepted  by  Christ  for  more 
than  his  personal  worth.  No  one  need  fear  to  be  ac- 
cepted for  less  than  his  worth.  His  glance  burns  through 
all  the  adventitious  and  fictitious  envelopes  in  which 
men  are  sometimes  bound.  Amid  the  dross  which 
gathers  around  the  nugget,  he  discerns  the  pure  gold  if 
there  be  any,  and  knov/s  just  how  much  there  is  of  it. 
It  is  vain  to  rely  on  pompous  pretentions,  on  class  priv- 
ileges, on  hereditary  or  acquired  distinctions,  on  any  one 
of  the  foundations  on  which  personal  pride  and  social 
prejudice  so  often  rest,  and  are  built  up.  "Jesus  did  not 
commit  himself  unto  them  because  he  knew  all  men,  and 
needed  not  that  any  should  testify  of  man,  because  he 


SERMONS.  139 

knew  what  was  in  man."  He  needed  not  any  of  those 
artificial  auxiharies  by  which  our  judgments  are  formed, 
and  on  which  our  opinions  and  actions  so  largely  de- 
pend. He  showed  no  regard  to  the  commendatory 
plaudits  of  society.  He  did  not  hold  as  of  the  highest 
value  its  proscriptive  edicts.  He  did  not  honor  a  man 
because  worldly  maxims  and  creeds  made  him  honor- 
able. He  did  not  scorn  him  because  he  did  not  pro- 
nounce the  Shibboleth  of  a  school  or  of  a  class.  The 
Pharisees,  flaunting  broad  phylacteries,  found  in  him  no 
smooth-tongued  sycophant.  Publicans  and  sinners, 
scorned  and  shunned  by  the  religious  aristocracy  of  the 
day,  found  in  him  a  wise  and  gentle-hearted  friend.  He 
received  the  Pharisee  as  a  man — nothing  more,  He  re- 
ceived the  Publican  as  a  man — nothing  less.  He  knew 
no  sect,  no  caste,  no  privileged  class,  no  superior  or  in- 
ferior orders.  He  knew  only — man !  The  woman  of 
Samaria  is  heard  asking  in  astonishment:  "How  is  it 
that  thou  being  a  Jew  askest  drink  of  me  which  am  a 
woman  of  Samaria?"  The  proud  and  contemptuous 
Pharisee  sees  him  allow  the  outcast  to  bathe  his  feet  with 
her  tears.  He  mingles  with  the  rich  and  noble  as  their 
equal.  The  dying  thief  on  the  cross  hears  him  say: 
"  To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise."  Thus  did 
Christ  love  men,  and  the  new  commandment  which  he 
has  given  us  is,  "  As  I  have  loved  you,  do  ye  also  love 
one  another." 

n.  In  the  next  place  the  example  of  Christ  requires 
that  we  should  distinguish  between  that  which  is  real, 
internal,  substantial  in  men,  and  that  which  is  apparent, 
external,  superficial. 

Even  after  you  take  a  man  out  of  his  circumstances, 
after  }'ou  strip  him  of  his  surroundings,  there  is  a  great 
deal  yet  within  the  compass  of  his  own  personality,  of 
which  you  must  strip  him,  or  through  which  you  must 


140  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

penetrate,  before  you  can  get  at  his  real  self.  Just  as  it 
is  difficult  to  separate  between  a  luminous  body,  and  the 
halo  which  gathers  round  it,  so  as  to  mark  out  sharply 
the  outline  .of  the  flame,  so  it  is  difficult  to  separate 
the  inward  in  the  man,  from  the  outward.  Some 
people  have  the  trick  of  seeming  larger  than  they 
really  are.  It  is  said  that  the  French  people  were  very 
much  surprised  after  the  death  of  Louis  XIV,  at  find- 
ing that  his  body  was  so  much  smaller  than  they  had 
supposed.  The  Grand  Monarque  had  succeeded  in 
making  an  exaggerated  impression  of  his  personal  pro- 
portions by  the  pomp,  and  circumstances  and  grand- 
eur of  air,  which  he  assumed.  And  so  intellectually 
and  morally,  some  seem  to  fill  up  a  much  larger  space 
than  they  really  do.  Others  look  smaller  than  they 
really  are.  Some,  like  comets,  go  blazing  along  a  way, 
drawing  a  long  nebulous  cloud  after  them,  and  attract- 
ing much  attention  for  the  time,  although  when  they 
are  more  narrowly  examined,  the  nucleus  of  solid  mat- 
ter in  them  is  found  to  be  exceedingly  small.  Others 
are  like  stars  that  twinkle  and  flicker  as  though  they 
were  on  the  point  of  going  out,  although  when  you 
bring  the  telescope  to  bear  on  them,  you  find  them  to 
be  majestic,  mighty  suns.  Manners  do  much  for  men, 
as  it  is  right  to  a  certain  extent  they  should.  It  is  the 
right  of  a  man  or  woman  of  graceful  ways  and  speech 
to  command  homage  and  devotion.  For  after  all,  the 
best  and  most  genuine  manners  are  not  far  removed 
from  the  noblest  qualities  of  the  heart.  It  was  perhaps 
the  perception  of  this  which  led  the  earlier  Romans  to 
apply  the  same  rule  to  manners  and  morals.  Accom- 
plishments are  not  to  be  despised.  All  those  natural 
gifts  and  acquired  arts,  which  give  our  access  to  the 
affections  and  regard  of  others,  which  carry  with  them 
the  power  to  charm,  to  attract  and  influence  others,  are 


SERMONS.  141 

to  be  esteemed  and  prized.  Only  let  us  bev/are  of 
being  misled.  We  are  in  danger  of  overval-uing 
these,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  of  undervaluing  the 
more  solid,  real  and  profound  qualities  of  a  perfect  char- 
acter. In  fact,  men  are  continually  falling  into  this  error. 
And  the  worst  of  it  is,  that  too  often  they  are  willing  to 
be  deceived.  At  least  I  know  not  how  otherwise  to 
account  for  such  facts  as  these.  A  man  of  plausible 
ways,  specious  manners,  versatility,  wit,  tact  in  social 
converse,  will  find  entrance,  where  if  his  recognition 
were  made  to  depend  on  the  amount  of  real  manhood 
in  him,  he  would  find  the  door  slammed  in  his  face. 
A  person  whose  entire  mental  capital  is  the  airy  noth- 
ings that  sparkle  like  froth  on  the  surface  of  fashionable 
society,  will  be  welcomed,  where  if  a  respectable  amount 
of  intelligence,  and  a  respectable  number  of  elevated 
ideas  were  required  as  the  price  of  admission,  he  would 
be  a  hopeless  candidate  for  recognition.  A  person  who 
is  versed  in  the  art  of  flattery,  v/ho  is  careful  only  to 
please  and  acquire  popularity,  and  careless  to  compro- 
mise either  the  truth  or  his  own  integrity  will  be  re- 
ceived with  open  arms,  while  another  whose  exterior  is 
the  leaden  casket,  hiding  the  jewel  of  a  noble  soul,  who 
despises  trickery  and  affectation,  whose  slightest  thought 
or  feeling  contains  more  heart  and  brain  than  the  former 
could  put  into  a  life,  finds  cold  cheer  and  freezing  wel- 
come. 

Again,  we  often  fail  to  distinguish  as  we  should  be- 
tween a  man's  former  and  his  present  self.  There  are 
cases,  to  be  sure,  where  it  is  right  to  remember  a  man 
as  he  was,  rather  than  as  he  is.  This  is  the  right  of  any 
grand  old  man,  the  hero  of  a  glorious  life  campaign,  in 
whom  the  fire  of  the  past  now  flickers  but  feebly,  and 
in  whom  only  the  shadow  of  the  departed  greatness 
remains.       But,  on   the  other  hand,  we    often  let  the 


14-i  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

shadow  of  an  unfortunate  past  obscure  the  true  beauty 
and  worth  of  the  present.  The  memory  of  anything 
disadvantageous  will  haunt  one  through  life,  eclipsing 
much  real  merit.  There  are  those  whom  a  single  fail- 
ure drags  down  and  keeps  down.  There  is  a  social 
pride  which  never  forgets,  never  forgives. 

Not  so  has  Christ  taught  us — "  Bear  ye  one  another's 
burdens"  is  his  law.  "Whoso  shall  offend  one  of 
these  little  ones,  which  believe  in  mo,  it  were  better 
that  a  mill-stone  were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and  that 
he  were  drowned  in  the  depths  of  the  sea."  "Judge 
not  according  to  the  appearance,  but  judge  righteous 
judgment.  "By  their  fruits,  not  by  their  professions, 
ye  shall  know  them."  Such,  also,  is  the  example  which 
he  has  left  us.  The  smooth  plausibilities  of  the  Phari- 
see did  not  impose  on  him.  The  stammering  diffidence 
of  the  Publican  did  not  excite  his  contempt.  The  os- 
tentatious hospitality  of  the  rich  did  not  dazzle  his 
eyes  and  prevent  his  seeing  and  rebuking  its  hollow- 
ness.  In  the  widow's  mite,  he  saw  a  love  larger  than 
all  the  other  money  in  the  treasury  could  measure.  He 
sees  everyone  as  he  is,  and  whosoever  comcth  to  him 
he  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.  So  does  Christ  love  men ; 
thus  does  he  command  us:  "As  I  have  loved  you, 
love  ye  one  another." 

III.  The  love  which  Christ  bears  for  men  and  which 
is  the  standard  of  our  love,  may  be  most  fully  summed 
up  by  calling  it  the  love  of  a  brother.  We  have  seen 
how  the  various  circles  of  human  relationship  too  often 
degenerate  into  nurseries  of  selfish  views  and  prejudices. 
Sectional  feelings,  party  animosities,  sectarian  bigotries, 
social  exclusiveness,  family  pride,  the  narrowmindedness 
of  faction,  the  superciliousness  of  caste — these  are  so 
many  indications  of  the  way  in  which  the  brotherhood 
of  the  human  family  is  encroached  upon  by  the  exag- 


SERMONS.  143 

gerated  and  perverted  sentiment  of  narrow  spheres. 
How  are  these  to  be  resisted  ?  I  answer,  by  looking 
at  our  brotherhood  as  Christ  reveals  it.  He  is  identi- 
fied with  humanity,  that  runs  all  the  way  through 
every  degree  and  condition  of  human  life.  No  man, 
whatever  his  race,  rank,  nation,  profession,  style,  or 
type  of  character,  may  not  say  "Christ  is  my  brother." 
He  brings  all  together  before  God,  and  says,  "Call  no 
man  your  Father  upon  the  Earth,  for  one  is  your 
Father  which  is  in  heaven,  and  all  ye  are  brethren." 
Not  one  body  of  men  anywhere  can  say  with  any  ex- 
clusive claim,  "  Christ  is  ours."  He  had  not  where  to 
lay  his  head.  Yet  Nicodemus,  the  ruler,  stood  up  for 
him  in  the  Sanhedrim,  and  brought  myrrh  and  aloes  to 
embalm  his  body,  and  Joseph,  the  rich  man  of  Arima- 
thea,  procured  his  body  of  Pilate  and  laid  it  in  his  own 
new  tomb.  He  preached  to  the  poor,  and  the  rich  came 
to  take  counsel  of  him.  He  dined  with  the  wealthy 
Pharisee,  he  ate  with  publicans  and  sinners.  The  com- 
mon people  heard  him  gladly,  and  the  educated  mar- 
veled at  his  wisdom.  His  character  was  so  symmetrical 
that  no  one  type  will  express  it.  He  combined  the 
force,  the  massiveness,  the  breadth  of  man,  with  the 
tenderness,  the  refinement,  the  depth  of  woman.  He 
was  stern  as  the  rock,  gentle  as  the  dew ;  bold  as  the 
lion,  meek  as  the  lamb ;  wise  as  the  serpent,  harmless 
as  the  dove.  He  is  the  center  where  all  perfection 
meets.  His  manhood  rises  above  all  like  the  mount- 
ains, it  expands  over  all  like  the  firmanent,  it  shines 
upon  all  like  the  light,  and  every  one  everywhere  can 
always  say  of  him,  as  we  say  of  mountains,  of  heavens, 
of  light,   "  He  is  mine." 

And  now  it  is  our  duty  to  lift  ourselves  up  to  Christ, 
to  reach  out  to  every  point  in  the  circumference  of  his 
life,  to  come  forth  out  of  that  narrow,   contracted,   un- 


144  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

natural  self,  into  which  the  world  with  its  thousand 
adverse  powers  squeezes  us,  into  that  broad,  free,  gen- 
erous manhood,  of  which  Christ  is  the  type.  We  must 
outgrow  the  narrowness  and  littleness  and  shallowness, 
into  which  our  lives  run  here  and  there ;  we  must  get 
rid  of  the  conventionalisms,  the  professionalisms  which 
grow  around  us ;  we  must  strive  to  exert  an  influence 
not  narrow  and  partial,  like  that  which  the  old  astrolo- 
gers attributed  to  the  planets,  but  quickening,  enlarging, 
fructifying,  like  that  of  the  summer  sun.  In  proportion 
as  we  become  like  Christ  shall  we  be  recognized  and 
claimed  by  all  as  brethren.  In  loving  and  treating  each 
man  as  a  brother  Christ  regards  all  the  facts  of  his  con- 
dition and  recognizes  ftie  circumstances  which  have  acted 
on  him,  and  which  have  extended  an  important  influ- 
ence in  forming  his  character  and  deciding  his  destiny. 
The  Bible  takes  pains  to  tell  us  that  Christ  is  "touched 
with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  for  in  that  he  himself 
hath  suffered  being  tempted,  he  is  able  to  succor  them 
that  are  tempted."  He  sees  in  every  man  a  brother, 
who  has  been  agitated  by  conflicting  emotions,  who  has 
been  driven  hither  and  thither  by  distracting  passions, 
who  has  been  tossed  about  by  the  winds  of  temptation, 
buffeted  by  the  waves  of  affliction,  wrecked  it  may  be 
on  the  "Shoals  of  guilt,"  who  has  made  the  voyage  of 
life  amid  storms  and  breakers,  with  broken  masts,  torn 
sails,  shattered  rudder,  and  leaky  sides.  He  sees  not 
one  whose  will  has  been  his  destiny,  not  one  who  has 
molded  his  character,  as  our  artist  forms  his  statue  in 
the  studio  where  in  quiet  and  uninterrupted  communion 
with  his  ideal,  he  gradually  and  carefully  molds  his 
cast,  and  chisels  the  marble  into  the  image  of  the  dream 
of  his  brain, — but  in  man  Christ  sees  one  who  has  been 
shaping  his  life  in  the  rough  quarry,  where  his  foot  slips, 
where  his  hand  is  struck  aside,  where  the  hurricane  or  ava- 


SERMONS.  145 

lanchc  dashes  down  his  work.  He  sees  one  who  is  tempted, 
who  is  weak,  whose  mind  and  will  are  not  always  his  own. 
He  sees  him  come  into  the  world  of  evil  influences, 
with  susceptibilities  to  bad  impressions,  with  deranged 
sensibilities,  with  inherited  infirmities,  with  no  knowl- 
edge of  himself,  or  of  the  world,  or  of  what  lies  before 
him,  assailed  by  strong  temptations,  bhnded  by  errors, 
whirled  by  the  tempest,  dashed  from  fall  to  fall,  each 
leaving  him  weaker  and  more  helpless  than  he  was  be- 
fore. Christ  sees  all  this:  and  although  he  himself  fell 
not,  although  he  knew  no  defeat,  no  overthrow,  no 
wreck,  he  knows  what  it  is  to  be  tried.  He  is  filled 
with  sympathy.  He  knows  how  guilty  we  are,  none 
better ;  it  was  because  he  knew  so  well  our  guilt,  that 
he  endured  the  cross ;  but  he  also  knows — none  better, 
how  weak  we  are,  how  ignorant,  how  helpless.  ' '  Father, 
forgive  them!  they  know  not.  what  they  do!"  Thus 
did  he  pray  when  his  holy  heart  was  most  deeply  grieved 
by  the  iniquity  of  man,  vv'hen  the  exceeding  sinfulness 
of  sin  stood  revealed  before  him  in  its  most  damning 
deed.  -  Yea !  it  was  even  in  that  hour  that  the  thief  at 
his  side  was  encouraged  to  pray,  "Lord!  remember 
me  when  thou  comest  into  thy  Kingdom ! "  Not  as  a 
cold,  unfeeling  censor  does  Christ  receive  sinners;  nor 
even  as  a  stern,  impartial  judge,  robed  in  the  severity 
of  Eternal  Justice:  Nay!  but  as  a  brother,  unfallen,  in- 
fallible. Divine,  but  as  a  brother  still.  He  does  not 
indeed  extenuate  our  unworthiness,  he  does  not  hide 
from  us  our  guilt,  nor  make  us  forget  how  deeply  we 
have  sinned, — Ah,  no  !  Where — where  do  we  feel  so  un- 
worthy, where  does  the  load  of  our  guilt  feel  so  heavy, 
where  do  the  depths  of  our  heart's  degradation  appear 
so  dreadful,  where  do  we  feel  such  shame,  such  self- 
condemnation,  such  humiliation  as  in  the  arms  of  Jesus? 
But,  oh !  where  is  such  confidence,  such  beaming  hope, 


146  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

such  cheerful  self-abandonment,  such  joyous  boldness, 
such  delightful  assurance  as  on  the  bosom  of  our  Lord, 
on  the  heart  of  our  Elder  Brother? 

The  love  of  Jesus!  Who  can  describe  it?  It  is  the 
same  forever.  It  suffers  no  unfaithfulness,  or  unworthi- 
ness  in  its  object  to  cool  or  change  it.  It  measures 
itself  by  no  merit  in  that  on  which  it  bestows  itself. 
It  has  no  tides  and  ebbs;  no  such  barriers  as  circum- 
scribe our  love.  No  !  Ah,  No  !  It  is  its  own  measure  ; 
its  own  law ;  its  own  cause.  It  is  its  own  source ;  its 
own  channel ;  its  own  supply ;  its  own  moving  energy. 
He  loves  because  to  love  is  his  life,  because  to  love  is 
worthy  of  himself,  because  if  he  were  to  cease  loving, 
he  would  cease  to  be  the  Son  of  God.  And  his  love 
clothes  whomsoever  he  loves,  with  its  own  glory.  It 
carries  the  poor,  imperfect,  sin-stricken  soul  to  its 
Mount  of  Transfiguration,  and  there  beholds  it  in  its 
future  brightness  and  perfection,  as  the  Disciples  in  the 
Mount  beheld  their  Lord  in  the  radiance  of  his  coming 
glory.  As  Christ  receives  us  into  his  fellowship  and 
love,  he  sees  in  us  not  what  others  see,  but  Himself, 
the  Lord  from  Heaven.  He  receives  the  weary  wan- 
derer without  upbraiding,  with  no  reproaches,  but  with 
a  love  which  breaks  down  the  heart  more  completely 
than  the  severest  censure,  with  a  winning  gentleness, 
whose  silent  eloquence  is  more  overpowering  than  the 
loudest  chidings,  welcoming  him  with  open  arms  and 
open  heart  to  the  hospitalities  of  boundless  and  endless 
grace.  Shall  we,  companions  in  guilt,  hold  one  another 
off,  and  act  the  censor,  criticising,  condemning,  tortur- 
ing one  another  with  the  refined  cruelties  of  sanctimo- 
nious self-righteousness  ?  Ah !  brethren,  the  holier 
we  become,  the  more  we  have  of  the  spirit  and  love  of 
Christ,  the  less  will  there  be  of  that,  and  the  more  of 
brotherly  welcome,   guidance,  and  aid.     The  more  we 


SERMONS.  147 

are  in  Christ,  the  more  shall  we  be  one  in  Christ.  Out 
of  Christ  there  can  be  no  brotherhood,  in  Christ  there 
can  be  nothing  else.  All  elements  of  difference  and 
incompatibility  are  there  annulled ;  every  partition  wall 
is  broken  down.  "Ye  are  all  the  children  of  God  by 
faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  For  as  many  of  you  as  have  been 
baptized  in  Christ  have  put  on  Christ.  There  is  neither 
Jew  nor  Greek ;  tlusre  is  neither  bond  nor  free  ;  there 
is  neither  male  nor  female ;  for  ye  are  all  one  in  Jesus 
Christ." 

Let  this  be  our  aim :  to  love  more  as  our  Elder 
Brother  loves,  with  a  love  which  will  be  itself  a  living 
proof  that  we  are  his  brethren,  because  our  love  is 
something  like  his. 


VI. 

LIVING  WATER. 

John  4,  14,  latter  part.     The  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of 
water,  springing  up  into  everlasting  life. 

Christ  is  here  speaking  of  the  life  which  he  imparts 
to  the  soul  that  believes  on  him.  This  life  he  de- 
scribes by  one  of  those  simple,  beautiful  and  suggest- 
ive images,  which  he  knew  so  well  how  to  use,  and 
which  make  the  facts  of  religion  so  clear  and  attract- 
ive. He  was  sitting,  a  wearied  and  thirsty  traveler,  at 
the  well  of  Jacob  in  the  Samaritan  village  of  Sychar. 
It  was  the  hour  of  noon,  and  a  woman  of  the  village 
came  to  draw  water.  "Jesus  saith  unto  her:  Give 
me  to  drink."  Bitter  sectional  and  sectarian  animosi- 
ties then  existed  between  the  inhabitants  of  Judea  and 
Samaria,  and  were  carried  even  to  the  suspension  of 
all  intercourse,  so  that  the  Samaritan  woman  was  ex- 
ceedingly surprised  at  being  thus  accosted  by  a  Jevv', 
especially  at  having  a  favor  asked  of  her:  and  she  said 
to  him,  "  How  is  it,  that  thou  being  a  Jew,  askest 
drink  of  me,  which  am  a  woman  of  Samaria?"  Christ, 
as  he  had  already  shown  himself  far  superior  to  such 
paltry  prejudices,  did  not  in  his  reply  so  much  as  al- 
lude to  the  matter  suggested  by  the  woman,  but  fall- 
ing back  on  his  own  lofty  character  and  mission,  he 
said,  "If  thou  knewest  the  gift  of  God,  and  who  It  is 
(148) 


SERMONS.  149 

that  saith  to  thee,  give  me  to  drink  :  thou  wouldst  have 
asked  of  him,  and  he  would  have  given  thee  hving 
water."  Just  as  we  might  have  expected,  the  woman, 
ignorant,  prejudiced,  superficial  as  she  was,  had  not 
the  remotest  conception  of  the  sublime  truth  thus  an- 
nounced to  her;  but  taking  the  terms  "water"  and 
"drink,"  in  their  literal  sense,  and  having  had  her 
curiosity  and  her  pride  touched  by  the  words  of  Je- 
sus, she  replied  with  mingled  incredulity,  wonder  and 
disdain,  Sir,  thou  hast  nothing  to  draw  with,  and  the 
well  is  deep ;  from  whence  then  hast  thou  this  living 
water?  Art  thou  greater  than  our  father  Jacob,  which 
gave  us  the  well  and  drank  thereof  himself  and  his 
children  and  his  cattle?  Christ  then  made  to  her 
that  strange  reply  of  v/hich  the  text  is  a  part,  "Who- 
soever drinketh  of  this  water  shall  thirst  again ;  but 
whosoever  drinketh  of  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him 
shall  never  thirst;  but  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him 
shall  be  in  him  a  well  of  water  springing  up  into  ever- 
lasting life."  This  latter  clause,  to  which  I  ask  your 
especial  attention,  seems  designed  to  expand  and  still 
further  develop  the  truth  implied  in  the  gift  of  living 
water.  Christ  says  that  this  gift  is  not  a  boon  to  sat- 
isfy a  present  want,  not  like  a  cup  of  water  given  to 
quench  the  traveler's  thirst,  but  a  gift  which  is  to 
abide,  to  be  retained,  to  develop  the  same,  and  even 
greater  results,  a  "fountain  springing  up  into  ever- 
lasting life." 

This  image  of  a  fountain  will  suggest  to  your  minds 
several  characteristics  of  the  Christian  life.  It  may 
suggest  the  idea  of  purity.  As  it  oozes  upward  and 
greets  the  light,  strained  through  the  filter  of  sand  and 
gravel  and  soil,  how  it  sparkles  with  brightness,  and 
how  its  drops  shine  with  the  transparency  of  crystals ! 
Such  is  holiness,  pure  as  the  unstained  diamond,  clear 


150  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

as  the  dew !  It  may  suggest  the  idea  of  fulness.  The 
heat  of  summer  may  parch  the  surrounding  region,  dry 
up  all  the  standing  pools  and  reservoirs  which  are  filled 
from  the  clouds;  but  the  little  fountain,  defying  the 
globe  of  fire  which  makes  the  heaven  as  brass,  pours 
forth,  in  undiminished  fullness,  its  bright  and  hmpid 
waters.  Such  is  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul.  Earthly 
possessions  may  pass  away,  worldly  com.forts  may  per- 
ish, present  supplies  may  fail,  but  this  life  will  still  send 
forth  streams  of  undiminished  power  and  joy.  It  may 
also  suggest  the  idea  of  life.  It  is  not  a  stagnant,  dead 
mass  on  which  the  slime  gathers,  over  which  death 
broods,  and  which  exhales  deadly  vapors,  it  is  an  ac- 
tive, moving  body,  never  at  rest,  ever  rolling  up  vol- 
umes of  influence,  which  will  be  felt  as  far  as  the 
streams  born  of  it  can  travel.  So,  of  the  holy  life. 
It  is  true  life,  incessant  activity,  self-purifying  and 
earth  renewing. 

A  fountain  will  also  suggest  joy.  As  it  bubbles  up, 
and  gurgles  in  its  depths,  and  trickles  over  its  basin's 
edge,  its  drops  tinkling  like  tiny  bells  of  silver,  and 
gathering  themselves  together  to  murmur  their  way 
along  in  melodious  sounds,  is  it  not  a  very  child  of 
joy?  Is  not  its  birth  a  laugh,  and  its  life  a  song?  So 
also  is  the  heavenly  life  born  of  the  joys  of  heaven, 
and  in  every  ripple  of  gladness  that  smiles  on  its  sur- 
face, is  mirrored  the  fulness  of  joy  that  flows  at  the 
right  hand  of  God.  A  spring  will  suggest  beneficence, 
unselfishness.  How  genuine  it  is  ;  never  hoarding,  ever 
giving,  one  drop  running  away  that  it  may  make  room 
for  another,  while  it  bestows  itself  somewhere  else. 
And  such  is  the  life  of  Divine  Love,  never  hoarding, 
ever  giving,  or  hoarding  only  that  it  may  give,  squan- 
dering itself,  lavishing  itself,  content  to  lose  itself,  to  be 
changed  (so  to  speak)  into  vapor,  dew   or   rain,  or   to 


SERMONS.  151 

run  on  in  the  humble  channel  of  life,  and  to  be  left  at 
the  root  of  some  "tree,  planted  by  rivers  of  waters, 
that  shall  bring  forth  fruit  in  his  season."  Once  more, 
a  fountain  will  convey  the  idea  of  blessing.  Not  only 
does  it  give,  but  it  gives  to  bless,  to  cool  and  slake  the 
parched  lips  of  the  wanderer,  to  supply  the  daily  needs 
of  a  neighborhood,  to  send  forth  streams  which  will  dif- 
fuse greenness,  freshness  and  hfe.  It  is  a  source  whence 
many  may  draw  the  waters  of  consolation  and  strength, 
the  source  of  gladness  and  holy  influences,  wherever  it 
reaches. 

But  it  is  not  to  any  one  of  these  characteristics  that 
I  desire  your  attention  now,  but  to  the  idea  suggested 
by  a  fountain  of  the  holy  life  as  a  life  of  free,  uncon- 
scious, spontaneous  obedience. 

What  a  delightful  unconsciousness  there  is  about  a 
fountain  as  it  plays  up  from  the  hidden  deep,  not  spout- 
ing up  in  spasmodic  jets,  but  gushing  upward  calmly, 
constantly,  yet  irresistibly,  winning  its  way  through,  and 
by  all  obstructions,  flowing  forth  in  wild,  untrammelled 
liberty,  and  winding  onward  at  his  own  sweet  will,  and 
doing  it  all  as  though  it  could  not  help  it,  as  though  it 
loved  to  do  so,  as  though  it  were  its  habit,  its  way,  its 
life  to  do  so.  Such,  also,  ought  a  holy  life  to  be — a 
life  of  natural,  instinctive  force,  outflowing  of  the  purest 
sympathies,  the  heavenliest  affections,  the  holiest  de- 
sires, the  divinest  purposes.  Such  a  life  it  ought  to 
be;  such  a  life  it  is  in  its  perfection. 

If  the  question  be  asked — what  is  that  life  of  Chris- 
tian perfection,  after  which  we  are  encouraged  to  strive? 
— there  are,  of  course,  many  answers  which  might  be 
given;  for  perfection  includes  everything  that  can  be 
said  or  thought  of  the  highest  state  attainable  to  man. 
It  is  the  culmination  of  every  godlike  power,  the  con- 


152  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

summation  of  every  holy  hope  and  endeavor,  the  coro- 
nation of  every  heavenward  aspiration  and  prayer. 

Take  any  quality  of  a  good  life,  purity,  spirituality, 
love,  carry  it  up  to  the  highest  point  of  power  and 
glory  conceived  as  possible  for  it,  and  you  will  be  led 
to  at  least  one  true  aspect  of  perfection.  It  is  im- 
possible from  the  nature  of  the  case  to  give  all  of  its 
elements  in  a  single  definition.  But  one  statement 
about  it  which  has  at  least  some  practical  value  is  this : 
Perfection  is  a  state  in  which  holiness  is  the  soul's 
habit ;  in  which  love  is  the  settled  law  of  the  life. 

But,  if  again  the  question  be  put:  What  is  habit? 
we  meet  with  more  than  one  answer  also  to  this.  It 
is  often  said  that  habit  is  a  second  nature,  a  second 
self;  this  conveys  a  vivid  practical  idea  of  the  strength, 
authority,  tenacity  of  habit,  the  hold  which  it  has  on  a 
man,  the  deepness  with  which  it  enters  into  a  man ; 
although  it  is  not  a  strict  philosophical  truth — as  it 
conveys  the  idea,  or  seems  to  convey  the  idea,  that 
there  is  a  first  nature,  a  first  self  behind,  second  or 
underlying  it ;  which  is  not  the  case,  for  the  whole  self, 
the  whole  nature,  is  incorporated  with  the  habits  of 
the  man,  and  grows  up  into  them.  I  would  say  that  a 
man's  habit  is  a  way  of  using  himself  acquired  by  con- 
stant doing  of  the  same  thing.  It  is  the  impetus  which 
man's  performances  acquire  by  motion  in  a  given  di- 
rection, which  carries  them  on  by  its  own  force,  the 
accumulation  of  power  within  which  makes  man  inde- 
pendent in  great  measure  of  stimulants,  or  of  pressure 
from  without.  That  which  the  momentum  acquired 
by  the  whirl  of  a  fly-wheel  is  to  the  revolution  of  the 
wheel,  such  is  habit  to  the  actions  of  the  life.  In  a 
holy  life,  it  is  the  power  which  is  gathered  up  in  the 
soul  by  faithful  and  constant  obedience,  v/hich  helps 
man   to  do   right  without  effort,    almost   without   con- 


SERMONS.  153 

sciousness,  so  that  all  the  holy  thoughts  which  spring 
up  within,  and  all  the  holy  feelings  which  sire  born  in 
the  heart,  and  all  the  holy  words  which  are  spoken, 
and  all  the  deeds  which  are  performed  are  natural,  so 
that  it  would  be  unnatural,  painful,  to  think,  speak, 
feel,  or  act  otherwise. 

This  is  the  condition  in  which  man  was  created,  or 
rather  for  which  he  was  designed,  and  which  if  he  had 
not  fallen,  he  would  soon  have  reached.  We  can  not 
say,  of  course,  that  man  was  created  in  the  habit  of 
holiness,  because  habit  is  the  product  of  time,  but  he 
was  so  created  that  if  he  had  followed  the  law  of  his 
being,  he  would  ere  long  have  reached  the  state  of 
spontaneous  perfection,  which  has  just  been  described. 
If  he  had  never  sinned  he  would  ha.ve  received  the 
powers  of  a  holy  life,  with  little  or  no  conscious  effort. 
All  that  he  had  done  would  have  been  spontaneously 
pure.  The  functions  of  the  spiritual  life  would  have 
been  discharged  with  as  little  constraint  as  those  of  the 
natural  life.  The  affections  would  have  beat  in  har- 
mony with  God,  as  the  physical  heart,  "like  a  muffled 
drum,"  beats  its  regular  life-march.  Love  would  have 
been  an  inspiration.  I  do  not  say  that  there  would 
have  been  no  labor,  no  effort  of  any  kind.  That  would 
have  been  necessary  to  develop  strength  and  firmness 
of  character.  But  there  would  have  been  no  such  con- 
ception of  effort  in  his  obedience,  as  there  is  now. 
There  would  have  been  no  friction,  no  clogs  within. 
There  would  have  been  the  same  kind  of  unconsciousness 
and  spontaneousness  as  we  find  in  perfect  health.  A 
man  who  is  perfectly  healthy  does  not,  of  course,  ab- 
solutely forget  that  he  has  a  body.  Hunger,  thirst, 
weariness,  will  remind  him,  at  intervals,  of  that.  His 
muscles  are  sometimes  strained ;  his  nerves  are  occa- 
sionally excited ;    and   the   blood  often    rushes   in    its 


154  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

courses  like  a  swelling  torrent,  and  glows  in  his  face 
with  the  fire  of  unwonted  energy.  But  still  he  is  never 
reminded  of  his  body  as  the  sick  man  is,  a  hundred 
times  a  day,  by  irregularities,  disturbances,  and  pains, 
here  and  there,  in  the  bodily  machinery.  He  uses  his 
body  as  a  skillful  workman  handles  his  tools,  as  a  part 
of  himself.  When  one  is  engaged  in  writing,  his  mind 
reaches  beyond  his  finger-tips,  down  to  the  very  point 
of  the  pen  in  his  hand,  so  that  a  little  hair  in  the  split 
annoys  him  as  though  it  touched  himself  When  the 
painter  is  engaged  on  his  picture,  his  brush  and  pallet 
are  situated  for  the  time  being  within  the  limits  of  his 
own  consciousness,  enveloped  in  the  sensations  of  his 
own  imagination. 

The  vioHnist,  as  he  holds  his  instrument  in  his  arm, 
embraces  it  as  though  it  were  a  part  of  his  own  being, 
and  the  sounds  which  he  draws  out  with  his  bow  are 
drawn  out  of  the  depths  of  his  own  soul.  As  long  as 
a  man's  implements  do  their  duty  properly,  he  does 
not  think  of  them  at  all,  but  of  his  work.  So  does  the 
man  in  perfect  health  use  his  body.  And  so  also  would 
a  perfectly  holy  soul  employ  all  its  powers  and  apti- 
tudes and  instrumentalities.  The  life  of  the  soul,  the 
life  of  Divine  Love,  would  have  filled  the  powers,  in- 
formed them,  inspired  them,  carried  on  their  activities 
by  a  heavenly  momentum,  imparted  by  the  moving  im- 
pact of  God's  own  spirit. 

The  chain  of  influences  between  God  and  the  mani- 
festations of  holiness  would  have  been  perfect  and 
unbroken.  The  connection  between  whatsoever  is 
divinely  fair  and  the  soul's  motives  would  have  been 
instantaneous,  and  the  connection  between  motive  and 
action  would  have  been  electric.  Man  would  have 
been  an  instrument  discoursed  upon  by  God  himself, 
and  yielding  the  purest  harmonies. 


SERMONS.  155 

Such  is  the  state  for  v/hich  God  designed  man,  and 
such  is  the  state  to  which  he  would  restore  him.  I  do 
not  think  that  tlie  New  Holiness  will  be  in  every 
respect  precisely  like  the  Old.  It  will  be  higher, 
nobler  even  than  that;  that  grace  may  "much  more 
abound  "  through  it.  But  they  are  just  alike  in  this : 
that  in  each  the  love  of  God  will  be  a  spontaneous 
uprising,  a  fountain  springing  up  into  everlasting 
life.  But  you  will  say  that  such  a  state  is  unattain- 
able here.  To  love  God  spontaneously,  to  do  right 
instinctively,  to  find  it  infinitely  easier  to  serve  God 
faithfully  than  to  be  unfaithful,  even  in  the  least,  that  is 
to  be  perfect;  and  perfection  is  beyond  our  present 
reach.  Well,  if  it  is,  it  is  none  the  less  our  duty  to 
try  to  be  perfect.  It  is  our  fault  that  we  are  not 
perfect.  It  is  our  duty  to  search  after  perfection,  and 
this  life  is  the  beginning  of  the  life  that  is  to  be  per- 
fect, and  if  we  do  not  try  to  be  perfect,  one  thing  is 
sure,  we  never  sJiall  be.  But  there  are  two  kinds  of 
perfection,  absolute  and  comparative.  The  latter  we 
are  commanded  to  possess  now.  Although  we  may 
not  attain  a  state  in  which  every  virtue  is  at  once  a  full 
grown  power,  and  every  habit  an  all-controlling,  never- 
failing  instinct,  we  may  reach  a  state  in  which  habits 
of  holiness  will  greatly  preponderate,  and  have  a  most 
decided  ascendancy.  We  may  by  constant  practice  of 
the  virtues,  acquire  an  overmastering  tendency  toward 
them  and  a  facility  in  their  exercise. 

The  condition  of  habit,  if  indeed,  we  may  not  say 
the  productive  cause,  is  repetition.  Its  law  is  this : 
that  by  frequent  and  persistent  iteration,  by  doing  the 
same  thing  over  and  over,  the  powers  both  of  body 
and  mind  acquire  2l  facility  in  doing  it,  and  an  impulse 
to  keep  on  doing  it.  The  dexterity  with  which  a  me- 
chanic manipulutes  his  work,   with  which  the  composi 


156  LLEWELYN  lOAN    EVANS. 

tor  picks  up  and  puts  together  the  type,  with  which 
the  writer  handles  the  pen  and  traces  words  on  paper, 
the  quickness  with  which  the  eye  in  reading  seizes  on 
combinations  of  letters,  and  groups  them  into  sentences 
and  grasps  their  meaning,  the  rapidity  with  which  the 
musician  fingers  the  keys  or  strings  of  his  instrument — 
all  this  is  acquired  by  use,  by  long  and  patient  prac- 
tice. And  this  is  the  case  not  only  with  fingers,  eyes, 
feet  and  muscles,  but  also  with  the  power  of  mind. 

By  practice  men  acquire  a  most  marvelous  facility 
in  exercising  the  powers  of  calculation,  combination, 
analysis  and  construction.  The  same  is  true  even  of 
the  moral  powers.  There  is  a  dexterity  (if  I  may  so 
say)  of  the  conscience,  a  quickness  in  detecting  wrong, 
a  rapidity  in  deciding  in  matters  of  duty,  which  can 
only  be  possessed  by  a  faithful  cultivation  of  the  moral 
sensibilities,  and  of  the  intellectual  judgments  and  ex- 
ecutive faculties,  which  are  called  into  activity.  So  of 
faith ;  the  man  who  believes  and  trusts  from  day  to  day, 
finds  it  much  easier  to  believe  and  trust.  But  not  only 
does  habit  imply  a  facility  in  doing  anything,  but  also 
the  impulse  to  keep  on  doing  it.  I  need  not  stop  nov/ 
to  illustrate  this.  All  know,  by  experience,  what  it  is 
to  have  gotten  into  the  habit  to  do  this  or  the  other, 
so  that  you  feel  continually  inclined  to  do  that  which 
you  have  been  used  to  do,  you  feel  restlesss,  you  do 
not  feel  right  unless  you  are  still  doing  it,  and  often 
you  find  yourself  involuntarily  doing  it.  Men  some- 
times try  to  apologize  for  their  errors  on  this  principle : 
"Oh!"  they  say,  "it  is  so  much  a  habit  that  you 
must  overlook  it  this  time."  That  is  to  say,  we  have 
done  it  so  often,  that  we  can  not  help  ourselves  now, 
and,  therefore,  we  are  not  so  much  to  blame;  frequent 
repetition  of  the  error  or  wrong,  the  impulse  to  do  it, 
has  gained  an  overpowering  ascendency  over  us !  Is  that 


SERMONS.  157 

a  good  excuse?  Admitting  that  it  may  be  alleged  in 
extenuation  (not  in  justification,  but  in  extenuation)  of 
some  particular  action,  does  it  relieve  a  man  of  his  re- 
sponsibility for  the  habit?  The  same  may  be  said  on 
the  other  side.  You  can  not  fairly  detract  from  the 
merit  of  any  good  deed  by  saying — Ah  !  it  is  the 
man's  habit.  He  can  not  help  himself.  Why,  you 
could  not  pay  a  m.an  a  higher  compliment  than  that. 
A  habit  of  doing  right?  A  habit  of  speaking  kind 
words  and  of  doing  kind  deeds  ?  A  habit  of  telling 
the  truth  ?  A  habit  of  showing  justice  towards  all  ? 
All  the  better  for  him !  All  the  more  for  his  credit ! 
It  is  just  as  good  as  to  say  that  he  has  done  these  things 
so  often,  so  long  and  so  earnestly,  that  to  do  them  is  to 
be  himself,  and  that  not  to  do  them,  would  not  be  to  be 
himself.  All  honor  to  such  a  man  !  Everybody  will  say 
that.  And  yet,  in  the  next  breath,  a  man  will  pass  by 
the  slave  of  some  evil  habit,  who  has  weakly  indulged 
some  passion,  until  it  has  become  a  tyrant ;  who  has 
done  some  unmanly,  some  unworthy  deed  over  and 
over,  until  impulse  to  do  it  overpowers  all  resistance, 
or  even  takes  away  the  desire  to  resist ;  and  everybody 
now  says,  "Poor  fellow!  You  must  not  be  too  severe 
on  him.  He  can  not  break  away  from  that  habit."  It 
is  sad  !  but  the  worse  for  him.  The  greater  his  guilt. 
Where  did  the  habit  come  from  ?  God  did  not  give  it 
to  him.  He  made  it  himself  It  is  the  result  of  a  long 
course  of  sinning.  He  forged  his  own  fetters.  He  sold 
him.self  to  the  tyrant.  This  being  the  law  of  habit, 
that  it  is  formed  by  constant  iteration  of  the  same  deeds, 
by  frequent  repetition  of  the  same  motives,  feelings  and 
actions,  it  follows  that  the  strength  of  any  habit  is  pro- 
portioned to  the  frequency  and  constancy  with  which  it 
is  repeated.  Not  only  is  aptitude  for  doing  any  thing 
increased  by  much  practice,  not  only  can  we  do  it  with 


J  5  6  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

much  greater  ease  and  dispatch,  but  the  tendency,  the 
impulse  to  do  it,  is  greatly  strengthened.  On  the  other 
hand  by  negligence,  by  omission,  by  irregularity  and 
infrequency  in  the  performance,  the  habit  loses  its 
power  ;  the  aptitude  for  it  is  diminished,  and  the  im- 
pulse toward  it  is  enfeebled. 

One  of  the  great  problems  of  a  true  life  is  to  bring 
every  good  feeling  and  activity  within  the  sphere  of 
habit,  to  make  all  the  duties  of  life,  and  all  the  graces 
of  life — habits.  We  should  make  a  habit  of  every 
duty.  It  should  be  performed  so  frequently  and  con- 
stantly that  it  will  become  easy,  and  that  there  will  be 
an  ever  present  desire  to  do  it.  Take  for  exam-ple  the 
duty  of  prayer.  We  are  commanded  to  "pray  with- 
out ceasing."  What  is  that?  You  answer, — to  be 
always  in  the  spirit  of  prayer.  Certainly  that  is  im- 
plied. We  can  not  pray  always,  unless  we  are  in  the 
spirit  of  it.  But  that  is  not  all.  We  are  to  be  in  tlie 
habit  of  praying,  which  (I  take  it)  means  more  than  to 
be  in  the  spirit  of  it,  at  least  as  the  words  are  com- 
monly understood.  To  be  in  the  spirit  of  doing  any- 
thing, is  to  be  ready  to  do  it  when  opportunity  occurs ; 
to  be  in  the  habit  of  doing  it,  is  to  be  doing  it,  and  to 
viake  opportunities  if  they  do  not  exist.  I  think  that 
here  is  a  little  loophole  through  which  some  try  to 
creep.  They  know  that  prayer  as  a  formal  act  can  not 
be  all  the  time  performed,  and  so  they  content  them- 
selves with  being,  as  they  hope,  in  the  spirit  of  prayer 
always,  namely,  in  a  certain  frame  of  mind  in  which,  if 
it  is  quite  convenient  otherwise,  they  will  be  ready  to 
pray.  Now  that  is  not  being  quite  up  to  the  mark. 
Habit  makes  opportunity.  Habit  begets  an  impulse 
which  will  make  itself  felt,  which  will  assert  its  power 
and  cOfUpel  a  man  to  yield  to  it.  He  who  is  in  the 
habit  of  praying,  or  of  performing  any  other  duty,  will 


SERMONS.  159 

feel  a  continually  recurring  impulse,  constraining  him 
to  do  it  with  a  heavenly  compulsion,  so  thot  he  can 
not  be  at  rest,  without  engaging  in  it.  I  have  instanced 
prayer,  but  the  same  is  true  of  praise.  We  should  be 
in  the  habit  of  praising  God,  just  as  the  birds  are  in 
the  habit  of  singing  all  the  day  long.  "Be  not 
drunk  with  wine,  wherein  is  excess,  but  be  ye  filled 
with  the  spirit ;  [Be  always  full  of  a  joyous  holy  ex- 
citement; and  how  shall  that  excitement  show  itself?] 
Speaking  to  (among)  yourselves  in  psalms  and  hymns 
and  spiritual  songs,  making  melody  in  your  heart  to 
God."  "  Be  in  the  habit  of  meditating  on  holy  things." 
' '  Blessed  is  the  man  whose  delight  is  in  the  law  of  the 
Lord,  and  in  his  law  doth  he  meditate  day  and  night." 
* '  Ah !  how  love  I  thy  law,  it  is  my  meditation  all  the 
day."  Cultivate  the  habit  of  thinking  on  heavenly 
themes,  magnetize  your  mind  with  them  until  it  points 
continually  toward  God,  like  the  needle  toward  the 
pole.  Cultivate  the  habit  of  Christian  activity.  ' '  Be 
always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord."  "  As  we 
have  opportunity,  let  us  do  good  unto  all." 

But  how,  you  say,  "can  so  many  habits  be  sus- 
tained?" How  can  a  man  be  in  the  habit  of  doing 
so  many  things?  My  only  answer  is:  Try  it!  You 
will  never  believe  how  many  things  can  be  done  at 
once,  until  you  try.  The  musician,  who  dashes  his 
fingers  up  and  down  his  instrument,  producing  different 
melodies  and  intricate  harmonies,  and  at  the  same  time 
holds  an  intelligent  conversation  with  a  friend,  and  sees 
all  that  is  going  on  about  him,  once  had  to  bend  to- 
gether all  his  energies  to  produce  a  simple  air  without 
any  accompaniment.  What  is  the  secret  of  the  differ- 
ence between  his  first  and  present  efforts  ?  Habit. 
He  has  learned  the  habit  of  seeing  and  of  thinking  and 
of   executing   a   great   many   things   in   one  instant  of 


l6o  LLEWEYLN  lOAN  EVANS. 

time.  And  do  you  not  suppose  that  we  can  learn  to 
crowd  together  a  great  many  good  and  holy  habits  into 
one  and  the  same  moment?  Moreover:  Every  grace 
of  the  Christian  life  should  become  a  habit.  It  should 
be  our  habit  to  be  grateful,  as  it  is  the  habit  of  the 
rose  to  be  fragrant.  The  act  of  faith  should  become 
the  habit  of  faithfulness.  The  act  of  hope  should  be- 
come the  habit  of  waiting.  The  act  of  love  should 
become  the  habit  of  love:  for  love  is  its  own  habit,  as 
it  is  its  own  law,  its  own  rev/ard. 

Let  it  be  observed:  that  there  is  an  essential  and 
radical  difference  between  habit  and  formality.  Every 
duty,  every  grace,  has  two  elements:  the  form  and  the 
spirit,  the  soul  and  the  body.  Formalism  is  the  repe- 
tition of  the  external  form.  Habit  is  the  repetition  of 
the  whole  duty,  or  of  the  whole  grace,  and  especially 
of  the  spirit  of  each.  A  man,  let  us  suppose,  offers  a 
particular  prayer  to  God,  a  genuine  prayer,  a  true, 
fervent  offering  of  the  soul.  He  takes  so  much  delight 
in  the  duty  that  he  recurs  to  it  again.  For  a  few 
times  he  experiences  the  like  pleasure  in  it.  But  his 
heart  gradually  becomes  cold ;  his  enjoyment  ceases ; 
and,  although,  from  some  superstitious  notion,  or 
Pharisaical  vanity,  he  repeats,  it  may  be,  the  same  peti- 
tions, that  is  all ;  there  is  nothing  but  the  phrases,  the 
form. 

Another  reproduces  not  only  the  form,  but  the 
spirit ;  he  experiences  the  same  wants,  the  same  fervor, 
the  same  desires,  the  same  delight  in  the  exercise,  as 
when  he  first  engaged  in  it.  In  the  one  case  prayer  is 
a  formality;  in  the  other  a  habit. 

There  are  men  whose  present  is  but  the  echo  of  a 
dead  past,  whose  days  are  lifeless  walls,  that  but  take 
up  and  roll  on  the  voices  of  other  and  better  days. 
Once  those  voices  meant  something;  they  came  from 


SERMONS.  l6l 

a  living  heart ;  but  that  heart  is  now  stagnant  and 
buried,  and  the  voices  are  without  a  soul.  The  man  of 
dead  formalities,  compared  with  the  man  of  living 
habits,  is  like  one  who  plays  on  the  keys  of  an  organ 
when  there  is  no  wind  in  the  pipes,  compared  with  one 
who  plays  while  the  living  breath  rushes  through  the 
tubes,  and  who,  as  he  touches  every  key,  unlocks  some 
sweet  mystery  of  sound.  Both  go  through  the  same 
forms,  the  same  motions,  both  finger  alike,  and  touch 
the  same  keys,  but  in  the  one  case  the  result  is  clatter- 
ing of  ivory,  in  the  other  music.  I  have  seen  it  stated 
that  the  great  pianist,  Liszt,  when  riding  or  traveling, 
has  a  dumb  key-board  in  his  carriage  on  which  he 
practices  his  fingers,  that  they  mxay  be  always  ready  to 
make  a  perfect  response  to  every  demand  that  may  be 
made  on  them.  Now  there  is  the  same  difference  be- 
tween the  man  of  mere  forms,  and  the  man  of  intelli- 
gent and  conscientious  habits,  as  there  is  between 
Liszt  going  through  the  forms  of  piano  playing  on 
dumb  pieces,  to  keep  his  fingers  nimble  and  vigorous, 
and  Liszt  over  a  deep-toned,  perfectly  attuned  instru- 
ment, inspired  by  his  theme,  flashing  forth  inspiration 
in  every  touch,  sweeping  the  key-board  vv^ith  a  hand 
more  potent  than  the  wand  of  a  magician,  and  making 
the  air  a  temple  of  song.  Formalism  plays  the  keys, 
but  they  are  dum^b  !  They  give  no  response.  They  do 
not  strike  the  chords  where  harmony  resides.  Habit 
touches  them  and  the  air  is  vocal  with  joy.  The 
strings  of  the  Universal  Harp  are  struck,  and  ring  with 
divinest  tones.  Every  touch  is  a  living  soul,  a  povv'er 
that  creates  vibrations  not  only  on  earth,  but  in  heaven, 
yea,  in  the  heart  of  God  himself 

Hence,  also,  we  see  why  formalism  becomes  tedious, 
monotonous,  dead.  It  brings  down  no  response,  no 
utterance  of  Divine  enlightenment  or  joy.     There   is 


1 62  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

no  living  connection  between  it  and  the  sources  of  pure 
and    elevated    delight.      It   becomes   wearisome.     Who 
would  not  tire   of  playing  forever  on  dumb  keys?     It 
receives  no  reward,  nothing  to  minister  nourishment  or 
strength  or  joy.      But  a  holy  habit  perpetually  renews 
itself.     It  is  a  pleasing  melody,  a  theme  ever  the  same, 
yet  ever  varying,    of   which   the   soul  never  tires.     It 
keeps  up  a  living  communication  between  the  soul  and 
the   other    world.      It   causes    new    blessings    daily   to 
descend   upon   the  life,    that  bring  into  the   heart   the 
sweetness   of   heaven.       But    these    habits    are    to    be 
formed.     They  are   not   born  with   us  into  the  world. 
God  does  not  give  them  to  us.     We  must  make  them 
for  ourselves.     We  have  lost  that  power  of  spontane- 
ous obedience  which  our  nature  had  at  the  beginning. 
We   can   recover   it  only   by  forming  a   new   habit  of 
obedience,    only   by  applying   ourselves  with  such  de- 
light to  the  performance  of  every  duty,  that  our  whole 
nature  will  be  transformed  into  a  new  manhood,  another 
and  a  better  self.      Everything  depends  upon  the  way 
in  whidi  they  are  formed.     Their  strength,  their  power 
over   us,  will   be   in  proportion  to  the  constancy  with 
which   we  apply  ourselves  to  their  formation.     Hence 
it  is  that  Christ  makes  so   much  of  faithfulness.     Re- 
ligion  is  not  to  be  carried  on  by  fits  and  starts.     It  is 
not  a  volcano,  v/hich  sends  forth  eruptions,  at  uncertain 
intervals,  and  sleeps  in  the  meanwhile.      It  is  a  fount- 
ain pouring   itself  forth  steadily  and  continually.     The 
formation  of  good   habits  is   the   work  of  time.     This 
would  have  been  the  case  even  with  Adam,  if  he  had 
never  sinned.      How  much  more  with  us,  who  have  so 
many  old  habits  to  be  overcome,  as  well  as  new  habits 
to  be  formed  ?     Do  not  then  on  the  one  hand  be  too 
hasty,   and  flatter  yourself   that   your  habits  are  com- 
pletely formed,  when  they  are   only  just  begun.     On 


SERMONS.  163 

the  other  hand,  do  not  be  discouraged  at  finding  their 
growth  to  be  so  slow.  Let  patience  have  her  perfect 
work.  And  good  habits  once  formed  must  be  main- 
tained. The  same  process  which  formed  them  is 
necessary  to  preserve  them.  Remember  that  good 
habits  are  much  more  easily  lost  than  acquired.  A 
day  of  negligence  undoes  the  work  of  a  month  of  ap- 
plication. And,  finally,  although  we  have  to  form  our 
own  habits,  let  us  remember  that  Christ  alone  can  give 
the  spirit  by  which  they  are  to  be  formed.  ' '  The 
water  that  I  shall  give  him,  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of 
water,  springing  up  into  everlasting  life." 


VII. 

"FORGETTING  THE  THINGS  WHICH  ARE  BEHIND. 

Philippians  3 :  13. 

This  is  a  part  of  Paul's  experience.  I  have  cited  it 
as  a  rule  of  action  for  us.  It  is  not  always  that  one 
man's  experience  can  be  safely  looked  to  by  others  as 
a  model  for  imitation,  but  the  disclosures  which  Paul 
makes  of  his  inner  life,  present  an  ideal  after  which 
others  may  strive.  This  is  especially  true  of  the  glow- 
ing and  elevated  self-revelations  which  he  gives  us  in 
this  chapter.  Nothing  nobler,  nothing  sublimer,  can 
be  found  in  the  history  of  any  human  soul.  No  won- 
der that  impelled  by  such  motives,  regulated  by  such 
principles  and  directed  toward  such  ends,  his  life  was  a 
success.  Life  is  sometimes  called  an  art.  We  speak 
of  the  art  of  living.  By  this  it  is  not  meant  that  life 
is  to  be  opposed  to  nature.  True  art  is  always  in  per- 
fect harmony  with  nature.  It  is  not  meant  that  it  is 
in  any  respect  false ;  for  perfect  art  is  truth.  It  is  not 
meant  that  it  is  made  up  of  shifts  and  expedients,  for 
a  true  life  like  true  art  has  unity,  and  all  the  parts  are 
necessary  to  the  whole.  But  it  is  meant  that  success 
in  life  depends  on  certain  conditions  and  laws,  which 
can  not  be  set  aside  or  changed.  It  is  only  by  com- 
plying with  those  conditions,  and  obeying  those  laws 
that  we  can  secure  the  proper  results  of  life.  We  have 
(164) 


SERMONS.  165 

several  of  these  conditions  grouped  together  in  the  pas- 
sage which  has  already  been  quoted,  in  which  Paul  de- 
scribes his  experience.  One  of  these  he  calls  "For- 
getting the  things  which  are  behind."  Another,  he 
immediately  afterward  calls,  "Reaching  forth  unto  those 
things  which  are  before."  The  former  defines  his  treat- 
ment of  the  past,  the  latter  of  the  future.  How  to 
deal  with  one  and  the  other  of  these  two  great  factors 
of  life  is  a  question  of  no  small  practical  moment. 
Standing  as  we  do  between  the  two,  or  rather  moving 
as  we  are  continually  from  one  to  the  other,  outgrow- 
ing the  one  and  growing  up  unto  the  other,  leaving  the 
one  behind  us,  and  yet  followed  by  it,  reaching  out 
toward  the  other  and  yet  finding  it  ever  before  us,  the 
question  is  an  important  one :  How  shall  we  make  the 
most  of  either?  How  shall  we  make  the  best  use  of 
the  things  which  are  behind  us,  of  the  facts  and  expe- 
riences, the  conditions  which  have  gone  from  us;  and 
how  shall  we  make  the  best  use  of  the  things  which 
are  before  us,  of  the  states,  the  experiences,  the  acqui- 
sitions, which  are  not  yet  ours  ? 

Sometimes  in  a  journey  we  come  to  a  turning  point 
from  which  we  see  at  a  glance  all  the  way  along  which 
we  have  come,  or  all  the  way  along  which  we  are  to 
go.  So  there  are  turning  points  in  life  which  bring  be- 
fore us  now  the  entire  Past,  now  the  far-stretching  Fu- 
ture. Sometimes  we  stand  as  on  the  top  of  Pisgah, 
and  see  the  Promised  Land  spreading  before  us  in  all 
its  glorious  extent,  a  land  overflowing  with  milk  and 
honey.  Again,  we  are  like  an  Alpine  traveler,  who 
reaches  some  lofty  summit  whence  he  can  look  back 
and  see  down  below  him  in  the  distance  the  village 
whence  he  began  his  journey,  the  green,  smiling  mead- 
ows which  skirted  its  first  stages,  the  rising  slopes 
which  formed  the  mountain's  base,  the  steeper  declivities 


1 66  LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 

which  next  awaited  him,  the  narrow  defiles  through  which 
he  threaded  his  way,  the  rugged  path  up  which  he  toiled, 
and  the  almost  pathless  precipices  which  he  must  scale 
to  reach  the  summit.  On  this  last  Sabbath  of  the  Old 
Year,  we  naturally,  inevitably,  look  back.  The  Past  rises 
before  us  and  invites  us  to  commune  with  it.  If  we  are 
ever  in  the  habit  of  reflecting,  we  shall  ask  ourselves 
to-day,  What  have  we  been  ?  What  have  we  done  ? 
What  have  we  passed  through  ?  What  have  we 
gained  ?  What  lost  ?  What  have  we  missed  ?  What 
escaped  ?  Wherein  have  we  succeeded  ?  Wherein 
failed?  What  if  this  or  that  had  been  otherwise?. 
Such  reflections  are  unavoidable,  but  how  to  profit 
by  them  ?  For  it  is  not  always  those  most  given  to 
reverie  that  are  the  wisest.  It  is  not  enough  to  muse 
over  that  which  has  been,  or  which  may  be,  to  brood 
over  the  lost,  to  dream  about  the  impossible,  to  take 
up  the  fragments  of  life  and  to  piece  th -m  together 
this  way  and  that  way ;  it  is  not  enough  even  to  order 
back  the  phantoms  of  days  and  months  and  years,  to 
question  them,  and  bid  them  tell  over  their  tales  of 
sorrow,  of  labor,  of  tedium,  of  exciement,  of  joy. 
Most  of  us,  doubtless,  do  this  at  times,  but  what  we 
need  is  to  gaze  backward,  so  that  our  forward  vision 
will  be  clearer,  to  brood  over  the  Past  in  such  a  way 
that  in  the  very  act  of  brooding  the  soul  may  replume 
her  wings  for  a  loftier  flight,  to  win  from  the  ghosts  of 
past  years  the  secrets  which  we  have  failed  to  learn  of 
the  years  themselves  ;  this  is  v/hat  we  need.  For  this 
Past  which  invites  us  to  hold  converse  with  itself; 
whose  whispers  mingle  even  now  with  the  moan  of 
the  dying  year,  what  is  it,  in  a  word  ?  Scan  it  closely — 
is  it  not  a  mirror  in  which  you  see  yourself?  Yes,  that 
is  what  it  is.  It  is  self.  A  dead  self  it  may  be,  which 
you  had  sought  to   bury,   which  you  had   hoped  never 


SERMONS.  167 

more  to  see.  Is  it  so  ?  Ah  !  vain  hope  !  It  confronts 
you  once  more!  You  must  look  in  it.  You  must' hear 
it.  A  forgotten  self  perhaps :  you  recognize  it  now 
that  you  see  it.  Yes !  you  were  that  once — but  you 
are  so  different  now,  you  had  well  nigh  forgotten  that 
self.  A  child  self,  perhaps :  Ah,  well !  is  the  child 
the  father  of  the  man  ?  And  was  that  self  the  father 
of  what  you  now  are  ?  It  must  be  so,  and  yet  it  seems 
strange  even  to  you.  More  likely  still,  you  see  a  self 
neither  dead  nor  forgotten,  but  one  that  is  fading  every 
day  into  greater  obscurity.  You  have  not  become 
transformed  into  something  else  yet,  and  you  hope  you 
may  never  become  an  entire  stranger  to  that  which  you 
once  were  :  you  say — 

"And  I  could  wish  my  days  to  be 
Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety." 

There  is  a  growing  difference  between  you  and  the 
self  of  othendays,  and  yet  you  are  changing.  It  may 
be  the  Past  which  visits  you  is  a  well  known  familiar 
self,  which  has  come  to  you  again  and  again,  so  that 
you  recognize  it  at  once  as  an  old  friend.  So  few  have 
been  the  change^  of  your  life,  so  even  has  been  the 
tenor  of  your  way,  that  at  the  close  of  each  year  it  is 
the  same  Past  which  faces  you,  the  same  self  which 
reflects  itself  on  you.  And  so,  you  see,  the  difficulties 
which  meet  us  in  dealing  with  the  problem  of  the  Past 
are  precisely  those  which  meet  us  in  dealing  with  the 
problem  of  self  The  Past  has  become  a  part  of  our- 
selves, at  least,  in  so  far  as  it  is  at  all  available  to  us  in 
the  Present.  The  sights  which  we  have  beheld,  the  in- 
fluences which  we  have  felt,  the  experiences  through 
which  we  have  passed,  have  indelibly  stamped  them- 
selves on  our  souls,  have  incorporated  themselves  with 
our  very  being.  When  we  ask :  How  shall  we  best 
profit  by  the   Past  ?    what  we  want   to    know  is,  how 


l68  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

shall  we  learn  wisdom  from  our  former  self?  How 
shall  we  make  that  which  wc  have  been,  help  us  in  be- 
coming that  which  we  ought  to  be  ?  A  problem,  this, 
which  is  easy  for  none,  but  which  presents  to  some  the 
most  serious  difficulties.  The  Past  is  much  more  pro- 
ductive of  results  to  some  than  to  others.  The  Pauline 
rule  of  the  text,  however,  is  a  simple  one  which  all 
can  use.  "Forgetting  the  things  which  are  behind." 
Of  course  this  does  not  mean  literal  forgetfulness,  for 
we  can  not  profit  much  by  that  which  we  have  abso- 
lutely forgotten.  Besides  entire  forgetfulness  is  impos- 
sible. Except  in  the  imagination  of  poets  there  is  no 
Lethe,  no  river  whose  waters  can  bestow  the  gift  of 
oblivion.  Or,  if  there  were  such  a  river,  would  you 
drink  of  it?  Would  you  forget  everything?  Granted 
that  there  are  some  things  which  you  might  wish  buried 
beyond  the  possibility  of  resurrection,  are  there  not 
other  things  which  you  would  desire  yet  more  earnestly 
to  retain  ?  Alas  for  the  man  who  for  the  sake  of  blot- 
ting out  a  part  of  his  past,  would  make  a  blank  of  the 
whole !  But,  you  may  ask,  are  there  not  some  things 
which  we  may  try  to  forget  ?  Of  course  there  are  many 
things  which  are  sure  to  be  forgotten,  not  indeed,  ab- 
solutely and  forever,  but  still,  practically  and  for  a 
time.  It  may  be  questioned  whether  any  impression 
whatever,  made  at  any  time  on  the  mind,  is  ever  wholly 
effaced.  In  the  light  of  Eternity  thousands  upon  thou- 
sands of  lines,  which  now  seem  to  have  disappeared, 
will  reappear,  clear  and  distinct  as  when  they  were  first 
engraved,  and  what  a  page  will  be  that  of  memory,  read 
in  that  light !  Now,  however,  very  much  that  is  written 
on  that  page  seems  to  fade  out  after  a  time,  or  to  be. 
come  very  dim  The  proportion  of  what  is  remembered 
to  what  is  for  the  time  forgotten  is  in  the  case  of  most 
persons,  small.     After  all,  this  seems  to  be  a  necessary 


SERMONS.  169 

and  wise  provision  in  our  present  education.  It  may- 
be doubted  whether  the  growth  of  the  mind  could  be 
sufficiently  healthy  if  it  retained  everything  indiscrimi- 
nately. Yes,  it  is  a  blessed  law  of  life's  discipline  that 
for  the  present  we  forget  so  much  more  than  we  re- 
member. Now,  although  the  faculty  of  memory  is  not 
subject  wholly  to  our  own  control,  it  is  unquestionable 
that  we  may  learn  to  remember  or  to  forget,  in  great 
part  at  least,  according  to  our  desire.  There  are  things 
which  we  may  in  time  forget  by  exercising  certain  pre- 
cautions, and  some  things  which  we  should  certainly 
make  an  effort  to  forget.  It  were  well  if  we  could  blot 
out  of  our  memories  the  black  impressions  made  by 
evil  associations  and  the  corrupting  influences  in  the 
past.  Shall  we  go  further,  and  say  that  we  are  to  make 
special  efforts  to  forget  all  our  personal  failures,  our 
sins,  our  sorrows?  I  think  not.  To  do  so  is  neither 
courageous  nor  wise. 

It  is  cowardice  to  shut  our  eyes  to  the  sin  of  life, 
instead  of  looking  it  steadily  in  the  face.  It  is  weak- 
ness to  cover  up  failures,  and  then  to  dream  that  all  is 
well.  Better  than  to  forget  our  errors  and  our  sins,  is 
to  confess  them,  to  repent  of  them,  and  to  conquer 
them.  Better  than  to  flee  away  from  the  memories  of 
our  griefs,  is  to  be  humbled  and  chastened  by  them. 
Shall  we  say  then,  that  by  forgetting  the  things  which 
are  behind,  we  are  to  understand  letting  the  past  alone ; 
giving  ourselves  no  concern  about  it,  one  way  or  the 
other ;  making  no  special  effort  either  to  drive  it  away 
from  us,  or  to  bring  it  up  before  us?  No!  that  can  not 
be  the  meaning,  for  it  is  undoubtedly  our  duty  at  times 
to  summon  the  past  before  us,  to  interrogate  it,  to 
think  intently,  and  even  intensely,  upon  our  former 
selves,  to  call  to  remembrance  what  we  have  been  even 
in    error,    unworthiness,    guilt,    that   we   may   become 


I/O  LLEWELYN  lOAN  EVANS. 

properly  humble,  grateful  and  strong.  Take  the  case 
of  Paul  again.  These  words,  as  we  have  seen,  are  a 
part  of  his  experience.  He  is  speaking  for  himself: 
"This  one  thing  I  do,  forgetting  the  things  which  are 
behind,  and  reaching  forth  unto  those  things  which  are 
before,  I  press  toward  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the 
high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus."  But  we  know 
that  Paul,  the  Apostle,  never  forgot  Saul,  the  Perse- 
cutor. In  this  very  connection  he  contrasts  his  past 
life  with  the  present,  his  former  motives  and  aims  with 
those  which  now  governed  him ;  and  in  all  his  writings 
and  discourses,  we  find  him  making  continual  allusions 
to  himself  as  he  was,  no  less  than  to  himself  as  he  is. 
And  he  shrinks  from  nothing.  He  has  no  conceal- 
ments, no  evasions,  no  palliations  to  make.  There  was 
no  secret  corner  in  his  heart  which  he  was  afraid  to 
enter,  no  skeleton  closet,  the  door  of  which  he  dared 
not  open.  Although  he  calls  himself  the  chief  of  sin- 
ners, we  never  find  him  expressing  the  wish  that  any 
part  of  his  life  might  be  cancelled.  He  would  have 
nothing  forgotten,  lest  the  magnitude  of  God's  grace 
shown  in  his  salvation  might  seem  to  be  diminished. 
And  most  assuredly  Paul  could  not  have  desired  the 
memory  of  past  mercies,  of  former  joys,  of  ecstatic 
hours  of  Divine  Communion  to  be  extinguished.  The 
glory  and  the  shame,  the  love  and  the  guilt,  the  smiles 
and  the  tears,  were  too  closely  woven  in  the  canvas  of 
memory,  to  be  separated,  so  that  either  could  be  taken 
out  and  buried  in  oblivion.  Wherein  tlien  did  Paul 
forget  the  things  which  were  behind?  In  this:  that 
he  did  not  rest  in  them.  He  did  not  stop  with  them. 
He  did  not  cleave  to  them.  He  did  not  content  him- 
self with  them.  The  sources  of  his  inspiration  did  not 
lie  in  them.  They  were  not  the  supreme  motives,  the 
paramount  forces  of  his  character.      His  ideal  was  be- 


SERMONS.  171 

fore  him,  not  behind  him.  It  was  a  self  to  be,  not  a 
self  that  had  been.  His  life  was  not  hid  in  the  past, 
it  was  hid  with  Christ  in  God: — "That  I  may  win 
Christ,"  "that  I  may  be  found  in  him,"  "  that  I  may 
know  him  and  the  power  of  his  resurrection,"  "that  I 
may  attain  unto  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,"  "that 
I  may  apprehend  that  for  which  also  I  am  apprehended 
of  Christ  Jesus."  These  were  the  grand  ends  which 
Paul  placed  before  himself.  They  were  to  result  in  the 
creation  of  a  truer  and  nobler  self  than  aught  he  had 
ever  been  as  yet.  Paul  was  no  troglodyte  living  in  a 
cave  of  the  Past ;  he  was  ever  coming  forth  into  a 
larger  life,  into  a  broader  and  clearer  light.  He  was 
ever  growing  up  into  a  fuller  and  riper  mianhood. 
Compare  his  hold  upon  the  past  with  the  hold  which 
he  had  on  the  future.  He  would  have  said:  "  I  cast 
it  away  from  me  that  I  may  secure  that  glorious  im- 
mortality, this  heaven,  this  Christ,  on  which  I  have 
laid  hold,  and  which  must  be  mine,  and  which  will  be 
mine  forever." 

Compare  his  realization  of  things  which  were  behind 
with  his  realization  of  the  things  which  were  before, 
of  the  manifestation  of  God's  glory,  and  the  experi- 
ences of  God's  love  hereafter  to  be  enjoyed.  Pie  would 
say,  * '  I  have  forgotten  the  former  as  one  forgets  the 
morning  star  in  the  glory  of  the  risen  sun."  He  was 
the  last  of  all  men  to  depreciate  the  goodness  which 
had  crowned  his  life  with  glory,  and  his  labors  with 
success,  and  yet  as  compared  with  the  crown  which  he 
expeeted  to  receive  at  the  last,  the  royalty  with  which 
God  would  one  day  clothe  him,  he  would  say,  "My 
life  hitherto  has  been  a  void ;  my  true  birth  is  yet  to 
come ;  my  real  life  is  yet  to  be  lived ;  my  perfect 
humanity  is  yet  to  be  put  on.  As  the  life  of  the  seed 
while   it  sleeps  in  the  frozen  clod  is  to  the   life  it  will 


1/2  LLEWELYN   lOAN   EVANS. 

live  when  spring  and  summer  with  influences  gathered 
together  from  earth,  and  sea,  and  sky,  are  quickening 
and  energizing  its  growth,  so  is  the  Hfe  which  Hes 
behind  me  to  the  Hfe  which  rises  before  me.  My  Hfe 
here  is  a  sleep,  a  dream,  a  frozen  torpid  winter  as  com- 
pared with  that  waking  brightness,  that  morning  vigor, 
that  summer  glory  and  strength  which  await  me  in  the 
life  beyond.  I  account  the  things  to  which  I  have  as 
yet  attained  as  of  little  or  no  value,  I  leave  them  there 
in  the  Past  ;  they  have  answered  their  purpose,  they 
have  helped  me  so  far,  but  they  were  after  all  mere 
preparations  for  something  better,  stepping  stones  to 
something  higher.  God  ministers  nev/  aids  to  me  now 
and  he  promises  a  glory  to  be  revealed,  far  transcend- 
ing the  highest  imagination  of  the  soul  in  its  present 
sphere.  Then  when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  that 
which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away." 

Now  and  then  we  meet  with  a  man  who  says:  "My 
life  has  been  a  failure,  I  began  it  with  glowing  hopes, 
and  as  fair  prospects  as  most  of  success.  For  a  time 
all  went  well ;  prosperity,  comfort,  peace  flowed  in  upon 
me  in  abundant  measure,  and  out  of  the  enjoyments  of 
the  past  I  had  begun  to  build  a  mansion  of  hope  for 
the  future.  But  alas !  its  foundations  have  been  swept 
away ;  its  ruins  have  crushed  my  heart.  In  vain  have 
I  tried  to  rebuild  it.  In  vain  have  I  tried  to  even  build 
anything  humbler  out  of  these  broken  and  disordered 
fragments.  My  strength  is  gone.  Let  them  lie.  Let 
me  spend  the  remainder  of  my  days  among  them, 
looking  at  the  moss  gathering  slowly  on  the  moulder- 
ing heap,  dreaming  sadly  of  what  might  have  been, 
but  what  never  more  will  be."  Friend!  God  never 
made  man  to  live  in  a  ruin,  least  of  all  in  the  ruin  of 
himself  The  Hand  of  Love  sometimes  throws  down 
our  airy  mansions,  sometimes  tears  down  the  summer 


SERMONS.  173 

arbor  of  roses  we  had  built  for  our  enjoyment,  but  we 
may  be  sure  that  it  is  always  well  that  this  should  be 
done.  What  you  call  a  ruin  was  intended,  you  may  be 
sure,  to  save  you  from  ruin  ;  what  seems  to  you  fail- 
ure, was  designed,  you  may  be  sure,  to  avert  a  more 
disastrous  failure.  You  may  never  know  the  danger 
which  lurked  within  or  under  the  walls  which  that 
storm  shook  down.  You  may  never  know  the  poison- 
ous serpent  brood  that  was  hatching  in  that  bower  of 
bliss  in  which  your  heart  so  delighted,  and  which  the 
tempest  stripped  and  scattered.  Come  out  thence  and 
take  courage.  Leave  those  crumbling  walls  behind  you 
and  pursue  your  journey.  Your  heart  is  crushed?  There 
is  a  physician  who  can  heal  it.  * '  The  Lord  healeth  the 
broken  in  heart  and  bindeth  up  their  wounds."  Your 
strength  is  gone?  "  He  giveth  power  to  the  faint,  and 
to  them  that  have  no  might  he  increaseth  strength." 
Your  life  is  a  failure?  "All  things  work  together  for 
good  to  them  that  fear  God."  This  plan  and  that  plan 
may  fail ;  this  hope  and  the  other  may  disappoint  you ; 
let  them  go  !  But  your  life  is  not  a  failure  as  long  as 
there  is  a  possibility  of  saying  of  God   "  He  is  mine." 

Not  seldom  we  meet  those  who  rejoice  in  a  past  self 
— better,  more  exalted,  more  successful,  than  they  now 
are.  They  are  like  one  who  has  seen  better  days,  who 
still  occupies  the  old  mansion  where  he  once  enjoyed 
his  greatness  and  his  wealth,  although  one  by  one  the 
ornaments  and  furniture  have  disappeared  or  faded,  and 
little  remains  but  the  bare  walls.  Yet  there  he  sits  and 
dreams  of  days  when  those  walls  gleamed  with  the 
splendors  of  art,  and  resounded  with  the  echoes  of  song, 
and  when  through  those  halls  streamed  stately  proces- 
sions of  beauty  and  joy.  So  there  are  those  who  sur- 
round themselves  with  the  faded  remnants  of  a  glory 
that  is  departed.     They  recall  the  time  when  their  souls 


174  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

were  filled  with  elevated  thoughts,  with  noble  aspira- 
tions, with  high  purposes,  and  tuneful  joys.  Christians 
there  are,  who  revert  continually  to  a  period  in  their 
lives  when  their  hearts  were  like  harps,  breathed  on 
from  morning  till  evening  by  the  airs  of  heaven,  when 
like  a  lark,  the  soul  daily  winged  her  ecstatic  flights  to 
the  gates  of  the  Celestial  City  and  beheld  visions  of  the 
glory  which  cannot  be  uttered,  when  the  heart  sur- 
charged with  gladness,  found  frequent  and  sweet  relief 
in  tears,  when  the  exercises  of  religion  were  performed 
with  rapturous  joy.  It  is  so  no  longer,  but  they  take 
comfort  in  the  thought  that  it  was  so  once.  Indeed  it 
seems  to  be  almost  enough  in  their  estimation  that  once 
they  had  such  glorious  experiences,  such  high  resolves 
and  such  spiritual  prosperity.  They  say :  that  is  my 
true  self;  that  is  my  real  self;  not  this  which  you  see 
now.  They  seek  to  forestall  any  criticism  of  what  they 
are  now,  by  pointing  us  to  what  they  long  ago  were. 
Although  they  have  fallen  below  that  old  self,  they  are 
always  presenting  it  as  the  true  image  of  themselves. 
If  they  are  reminded  of  their  present  imperfections  they 
look  to  their  past  excellencies,  and  they  are  satisfied. 
If  the  deficiencies  of  the  life  they  now  lead  are  pre- 
sented to  them,  they  point  us  to  the  position  Vv^hich 
they  occupied  of  old,  as  much  as  to  say  "If  you  wish 
to  judge  us  take  us  at  our  best,  not  our  poorest!" 
When  in  reality,  in  judging  others,  that  which  they 
were  is  of  no  special  importance  except  as  an  aid  in 
determining  that  which  they  are ;  and  the  fact  that  one 
has  been  better  than  he  is  now  only  adds  to  his  shame, 
that  instead  of  being  better,  he  is  not  so  good  as  he  was. 
The  case  would  be  a  trifle  better  if  they  took  that  past 
ideal,  that  better  self  which  has  been,  and  set  it  up  as  a 
standard,  striving  once  more  to  reach  that  point.  It 
would  be  indeed  but  a  poor  ideal ;  but  it  would  be  better 


SERMONS.  175 

than  nothing,  it  would  be  better  than  remaining  satisfied 
where  they  are.  It  is  not  trying  to  get  very  high,  to  be 
sure,  to  be  trying  to  get  up  where  one  has  been  before, 
but  even  that  were  better  than  lying  down  in  indolence, 
and  saying:  "I  was  yonder  once!"  But  now  because 
•these  persons  have  once  attained  a  certain  altitude  it 
seems  to  be  a  matter  of  indifference  to  them  afterward 
how  far  below  it  they  fall.  Brethren  !  if  a  man's  life 
were  what  it  ought  to  be  there  would  be  no  such  thing 
in  it  as  a  fall.  There  would  be  no  stepping  down  from 
a  higher  to  a  lower  seat.  Whatever  may  be  the  ex- 
ternal changes  and  depressions  of  a  good  man's  life,  his 
inner  life,  his  true  life,  is  one  of  constant  elevation.  It 
is  ever  on  the  ascendant.  George  Washington  was  a 
greater  man  and  a  better  man  the  first  day  of  his  re- 
tirement from  the  Presidency,  than  the  day  he  was 
inaugurated.  The  man  who  has  not  yet  learned  how 
to  make  every  step  an  upward  step  has  not  yet  learned 
how  to  live.  How  to  become  holier  both  by  prosperity 
and  by  adversity,  how  to  be  made  stronger  both  by 
labor  and  by  rest,  more  patient  both  by  gratification 
and  by  disappointment,  more  resigned  both  through 
losses  and  through  gains,  how  to  be  made  more  heav- 
enly minded  both  by  business  and  by  devotion,  calmer 
both  through  excitement  and  through  rest,  wiser  both 
by  error  and  by  truth,  better  acquainted  with  self  both 
in  solitude  and  in  a  crowd,  more  Christlike  both  by 
trial  and  by  joy,  how  to  make  each  day,  each  v/eek, 
each  month,  each  year,  a  stepping  stone  to  the  next — 
this  is  what  we  need  to  know,  and  this  is  what  the 
love  of  Christ  alone  can  teach  us,  even  as  it  taught 
Paul. 

Whatever  then  may  be  the  self,  which  confronts  us, 
as  we  face  the  past  year,  it  is  one  which  we  are  to 
leave  behind   and  go  beyond.     Whatever  the  year  has 


176  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

brought  US  which  we  can  carry  along,  which  we  can 
build  up  into  the  better  self  of  another  year,  if  it  be 
God's  will  that  we  should  enjoy  another  year,  let  us 
thank  God  for  it  and  take  it  with  us.  Those  precious 
tokens  of  a  Father's  love,  those  sweet  assurances  of  a 
Saviour's  sympathy,  those  delightful  witnesses  of  the 
Spirit's  friendship,  those  bright  foregleams  of  immor- 
tality, those  delicious  foretastes  of  heaven,  those  les- 
sons of  human  weakness  and  Divine  strength,  of  the 
all-sufficiency  of  God's  grace,  of  the  certainty  of  our 
Father's  promises,  of  the  security  of  the  Christian's 
hope,  of  the  blessedness  of  faith  and  love,  these  lessons, 
learned  by  chastisement,  by  suffering,  by  trial,  by  en- 
durance, by  patience,  by  trust,  by  joyful  labor,  let 
us  treasure  them  up  for  future  use,  for  future  growth. 
Has  the  year  brought  you  much  of  suffering?  Carry 
away  from  it  much  humility.  Has  it  brought  you 
many  trials?  Let  it  leave  you  so  much  purer.  Has  it 
taken  away  much  in  which  you  rejoiced?  Let  it  leave 
you  richer  in  love.  Has  it  brought  you  disappoint- 
ments? Let  it  leave  you  richer  in  faith.  Has  it 
brought  you  joys  and  crowns  of  your  labor?  Let  it 
leave  you  more  full  of  zeal  and  energy  in  the  service 
of  your  Master.  Was  there  much  in  it  which  you 
could  not  and  can  not  yet  understand  ?  Leave  that 
with  God,  Was  there  much  in  it  which  it  grieves  you 
to  think  of?  Lay  that  also  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  Alas, 
for  those  errors,  and  follies,  and  sins !  Would  that 
they  were  not  there !  But  in  the  future  lies  the  great 
bulk  of  your  life,  God  be  praised,  the  Past  is  barely 
the  beginning.  Oh,  for  help  to  make  the  Future  purer 
than  the  Past,  to  make  each  year  whiter,  sweeter,  di- 
viner, than  that  which  went  before  it. 


VIII. 

THE  DISCIPLES'  AMBITION. 

Matthew  20  :  17-28.  "And  Jesus  going  up  to  Jerusalem  took  the  twelve  disciples 
apart  on  the  way,  and  said  unto  them, 

Behold  we  go  up  to  Jerusalem,  and  the  son  of  man  shall  be  betrayed  unto  the 
chief  priests  and  unto  the  scribes  and  they  shall  condemn  him  to  death. 

And  shall  deliver  him  to  the  Gentiles  to  mock,  and  to  scourge,  and  to  crucify  him  : 
and  the  third  day  he  shall  rise  again. 

Then  came  to  him  the  mother  of  Zebedee's  children  with  her  sons,  worshipping 
him,  and  desiring  a  certain  thing  of  him. 

And  he  said  unto  her,  Wliat  v.ilt  thou  ?  She  saith  unto  him,  Grant  that  these  my 
two  sons  may  sit,  the  one  on  thy  right  hand,  and  the  other  on  the  left,  in  thy  king- 
dom. 

But  Jesus  answered  and  said.  Ye  know  not  what  ye  ask.  Are  ye  able  to  drink  of 
the  cup  that  I  shall  drink  of,  and  to  be  baptized  with  the  baptism  that  I  am  baptized 
with  ?     They  say  unto  him.  We  are  able. 

And  he  saith  unto  them,  Ye  shall  drink  indeed  of  my  cup,  and  be  baptized  with 
the  baptism  that  I  am  baptized  with  ;  but  to  sit  on  my  right  hand  and  on  my  left  is 
not  mine  to  give,  but  it  shall  be  given  to  them  for  whom  it  is  prepared  of  my  Father. 

And  when  the  ten  heard  it,  they  were  moved  with  indignation  against  the  two 
brethren. 

But  Jesus  called  them  unto  him,  and  said,  ye  know  that  the  princes  of  the  Gen- 
tiles exercise  dominion  over  them,  and  they  that  are  great  exercise  authority  upon 
them. 

But  it  shall  not  be  so  among  you;  but  whosoever  will  be  great  among  you,  let 
him  be  your  minister  ; 

And  whosoever  will  be  chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant ; 

Even  as  the  son  of  man  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister  and  to 
give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many.'' 

"And  Jesus  going  up  to  Jerusalem."  How  simply 
the  fact  is  told,  and  yet  it  is  one  of  no  ordinary  signifi- 
cance. Not  that  there  is  anything  peculiar  in  his  going 
to  Jerusalem ;  for  one  of  the  great  feasts  of  the  nation 
is  approaching,  and  Jerusalem  is  now  the  centre 
towards  which  thousands  of  Jews  in  Palestine,  and  out 
of  it, are  drawing. 

Neither  is  this  the  first  time  that  Jesus  and  his  disci- 
ples have  formed  a  part  of  that  mighty  throng  which 
is  wont  to  stream  annually  to  the  National  Metropolis 
to  celebrate  the  Passover.      And  yet  of  all  high  feasts 

(177) 


178  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

ever  held  since  the  first  memorable  Passover  in  Egypt, 
never  was  one  like  that  to  which  Jesus  is  now  going, 
or  all  the  companies  on  their  way  to  it,  not  one  of  such 
interest  to  us  as  this  little  company  of  which  it  is  said: 
"And  Jesus  going  up  to  Jerusalem  took  the  twelve 
disciples  apart  on  the  way,  and  said  unto  them :  Be- 
hold, we  go  up  to  Jerusalem."  Let  us  now  seek  to 
enter  as  much  as  we  may  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene 
described  in  the  text ;  and  whereas  no  circumstance  can 
be  understood  alone,  apart  from  its  relations,  it  will  be 
necessary  for  us  to  study  this  scene  in  connection  with 
those  antecedent  circumstances  of  which  it  is  the  his- 
torical off-shoot,  and  to  this  end  let  me  remind  you  of 
a  few  facts  respecting  these  men,  with  which  you  are 
already  familiar. 

Let  us  remember  in  the  first  place  that  tJicy  were  Jews, 
and  as  such  shared  in  the  national  views  respecting  the 
Messiah  as  a  temporal  king.  They  were  not,  however, 
ordinary  Jcivs.  They  were  deep,  earnest,  spiritual  men, 
Israelites  indeed,  in  whom  was  no  guile.  As  such  they 
believed  that  the  Messiah  was  to  be  something  inoj'e 
than  a  mere  secular  prince,  that  his  kingdom  was  to  be 
a  kingdom  of  righteousness  and  truth.  Moreover  they 
Jiad  found  the  Messiah,  and  at  his  call  they  had  left  all 
and  followed  him,  a  fact  which  it  will  be  well  for  us  to 
bear  in  mind,  as  proving  that  they  were  not  actuated 
by  mere  selfishness  in  following  Christ.  Again  they 
had  the  right  to  regard  themselves  as  the  especial 
friends  and  followers  of  the  Messiah.  Nations  like 
individuals  have  their  ideals  and  hopes,  and  some  of 
these  have  been  very  rem.arkable  ;  but  of  all  national 
ideas  ever  formed,  of  all  national  hopes  ever  cher- 
islied,  the  Jewish  belief  in  a  Messiah  is  beyond 
question  the  most  remarkable.  Whether  we  consider 
the  character  of  the  ideal  itself,    or  the  poetic  beauty 


SERMONS.  179 

and  prophetic  grandeur  thrown  around  it,  or  the  tenacity 
with  which  the  nation  clung  to  it  through  centuries  of 
frequent  and  overwhelming  changes,  it  stands  unique  in 
the  history  of  the  world.  At  length  the  nation  is  agi- 
tated with  the  hope  that  the  long  wished  for  time  has 
come,  and  that  the  long  expected  Messiah  is  about  to 
appear.  Old  prophecies  are  looked  at  and  seem  to 
grow  luminous,  like  the  magic  talismans  of  fable,  which 
blazed  with  a  strange  light  when  aught  great  v/as  about 
to  happen.  Presentiments  and  rumors  are  ripe.  To 
an  aged  man  at  Jerusalem  it  is  revealed  that  he  shall 
not  see  death  before  he  has  seen  the  Lord,  his  Christ. 
A  voice  is  heard  in  the  wilderness:  "Repent  ye,  for 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand.'''  Jerusalem  and  all 
Judea  go  out  to  him  ;  Priests  and  Scribes  are  sent  from 
Jerusalem  to  ask  him,  "Who  art  thou?"  He  know- 
ing whom  they  had  come  to  seek,  answers,  ' '  I  am  not 
the  Christ." 

Ere  long  certain  Galilean  fishermen  are  heard  saying 
the  one  to  the  other:  "We  Jiave  found  the  Christ." 
We  have  found  him  of  whom  Moses  in  the  lavv^  and 
the  prophets  did  write.  Joyful  discovery  !  No  wonder 
that  they  leave  all  and  follow  him.  And  now  for  three 
years  have  they  followed  him : — years  of  poverty,  ex- 
posure, and  contumely.  Yet,  still,  they  cling  to  that 
homeless  wanderer.  Still  their  faith  in  him  is  unshaken, 
nay,  is  stronger  now  than  ever.  It  is  our  fashion  some- 
times to  depreciate  the  spirituality  of  the  simple-hearted 
men  during  this  time.  We,  wath  the  light  of  Nineteen 
Centuries  reflected  on  those  three  years — we,  with  the 
Commentary  of  Inspiration,  and  with  the  Consciousness 
of  the  entire  Christian  Church,  on  the  facts  and  say- 
ings which  transpired  therein,  shake  our  own  wise 
heads  at  the  lowness  and  grossness  of  those  men's  con- 
ceptions of  those  facts  and  sayings.     We,  living  in  an 


I  So  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

age  whose  spiritualities  are  only  refined  forms  of  mate- 
rialism, whose  truth  is  a  part  of  its  stock-in-trade,  and 
whose  religion  is  a  part  of  its  stock-jobbing — we 
smile  pitifully' when  we  think  or  speak  of  what  we  call 
the  carnal,  grovelling  views  of  these  Jewish  fishermen, 
who  had  forsaken  all  they  had  on  earth,  to  cling  to  the 
great  desire  of  their  Nation,  coming  to  them  in  the  person 
of  a  carpenter's  son.  It  will  be  time  enough,  however, 
for  us  to  scorn,  or  even  to  pity  these  men  when  we 
exhibit  the  same  unworldlincss,  the  same  self-denial, 
the  same  faith  in  an  unseen  ideal,  and  the  same  self- 
sacrifice  in  behalf  of  it.  True,  they  were  Jews ;  true, 
they  shared  the  national  views  of  the  Messiah, 
They  anticipated  a  visible  King  on  a  visible  throne, 
who  should,  in  their  own  words,  ' '  restore  again  the 
Kingdom  to  Israel."  But  even  the  common  Jew  knew 
that  this  was  not  all.  Again  and  again  he  had  read  in 
the  Book  of  the  Law,  or  heard  in  the  Synagogue,  that 
the  coming  of  the  Messiah  should  be  like  rain  upon 
the  mown  grass,  as  showers  that  water  the  earth  ;  that 
truth  should  spring  out  of  the  earth,  and  righteousness 
look  down  from  heaven ;  and  that  the  earth  should  be 
full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as  waters  cover  the 
sea.  Even  in  the  ordinary  Jewish  conception,  there- 
fore, the  visible  sceptre  which  the  Messiah  was  to 
v/ield,  was  the  emblem  of  a  spiritual  authority  over 
the  hearts  of  men.  But  these  disciples  of  Jesus  were 
not  ordinary  Jews.  They  belonged  to  that  deep,  earn- 
est, spiritual  order,  to  be  found  among  every  people, 
who,  without  rank,  influence,  or  learning,  it  may  be, 
yet  always  live  in  full  view  of  the  realities  and  glories 
of  the  spiritual  world,  who  watch  with  longing  eye  the 
morning  star  and  the  day  spring  from  on  high,  and 
listen  with  reverential  ear  to  the  Divine  Message, 
whether   spoken    by  the   lips  of  mitred  priests,  or   by 


SERMONS.  10 1 

the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness.  Accord- 
ingly we  find  that  some  of  the  men  had  been  drawn 
by  a  powerful  attraction  to  the  stern,  earnest,  and 
spiritual  Baptist  Prophet  of  Judea,  and  had  attached 
themselves  to  him  as  disciples ;  and  when  on  a  certain 
day,  One  came  by  of  whom  their  Master  said :  ' '  Be- 
hold the  Lamb  of  God !  "  they  at  once  followed  the 
stranger.  Of  another,  Jesus  said,  when  he  first  saw 
him:  "Behold  an  Israelite,  indeed,  in  whom  is  no 
guile."  (And  there  is  certainly  enough  in  the  sincere, 
trustful  unselfishness  with  which  they  abandoned  every- 
thing at  the  call  of  the  Divine  Man  of  Nazareth,  to 
dispose  at  once  of  this  charge  of  want  of  spirituality, 
which  is  so  superficially  and  flippantly  brought  against 
them.)  Furthermore,  they  had  now  for  no  small  length 
of  time  enjoyed  the  company  and  teachings  of  their 
Master.  Some  of  them  had  even  attained  views  of  the 
truth,  concerning  which  he  had  said  that  '  *  flesh  and 
blood  had  not  revealed  those  things,  but  his  Father  in 
heaven."  Naj/,  verily!  imperfect,  wavering,  and  con- 
fused, as  their  views  certainly  were,  material,  gross  and 
selfish  they  certainly  could  not  have  been.  It  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  that  we  should  judge  these  men  aright 
before  we  can  understand  their  feelings  and  conduct, 
and  the  sublime  wisdom  and  tenderness  exhibited  by 
Christ  on  the  occasion  which  we  are  now  about  to 
consider.  And  now  as  they  are  going  up  to  Jerusalem, 
let  us  seek  to  discover  their  feelings,  and  put  ourselves 
as  much  as  we  may  in  sympatJiy  luith  them ;  for  witJiont 
some  sympathy,  no  man  can  ever  understand  or  appre- 
ciate another.  Remembering,  then,  that  they  were 
Jews,  let  us  first  try  to  realize  what  is  implied  in  that 
fact,  to-wit :  that  they  belonged  to  the  East,  and  shared 
in  the  Oriental  passion  for  grandeur,  and  reverence  for 
external  signs  of  greatness;  and  yet  withal  had  much 


152  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

of  the  practicalness  of  the  West,  which  requires  some- 
tliing  more  than  symbol  and  form.  As  Jews,  more- 
over, they  doubtless  regarded  Mount  Zion  as  the  seat 
of  Messiah's  throne,  and  Jerusalem  as  the  radiating 
center  of  the  glory  which  was  to  flood  the  earth. 
Let  us  remember  that  they  were  now  journeying  to 
Jerusalem  in  company,  (as  they  fully  believed)  with  the 
Messiah  himself,  whose  especial  friends  and  followers 
they  were.  As  such  they  could  not  but  expect  to  be 
particularly  honored  in  the  general  exaltation  of  their 
Nation.  It  was  not  in  human  nature  to  think  other- 
wise, even  if  nothing  had  been  said  about  it.  But 
Christ  himself  from  time  to  time  threw  out  intimations 
which  tended  to  encourage  such  expectations. 

Thus  it  was  but  a  few  days  before  the  present  occur- 
rence that  one  of  them  had  asked  the  Master,  saying : 
"  Behold  we  have  forsaken  all  and  followed  thee:  What 
shall  we  have  therefor?"  And  "Jesus  said  unto  them, 
verily,  I  say  unto  you,  that  ye,  which  have  followed 
me,  in  the  regeneration,  when  the  Son  of  Man  shall  sit 
in  the  throne  of  his  glory,  ye  also  sliall  sit  upon  twelve 
thrones,  judging  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel."  Because 
now  we,  standing  where  we  do,  know  what  Christ 
meant  better  than  those  simple-hearted  Jews  could  have 
known,  because  we  know  that  the  regeneration  and 
throne  of  which  he  spoke,  as  they  were  more  purely 
spiritual,  so  also  were  more  glorious  than  those  which 
they  imagined — shall  we  wonder,  if  to  them,  visions 
of  present  and  earthly  greatness  mingled  with  the  views 
of  spiritual  elevation  and  power,  which  Christ  promised  ? 
But  further:  we  learn  elsewhere  that  the  disciples  were 
at  this  time  full  of  the  belief  that  tJie  time  had  now  come 
for  Chrisf  s  Kingdoin  to  be  established.  Luke  in  speaking 
of  this  journey  says,  ' '  They  thought  that  the  kingdom 
of  God  should  immediately  appear.''     How  this  expecta- 


SERMONS.  183 

tion  was  produced  we  are  not  told.  It  may  have  been 
one  of  those  indefinable  presentiments  which  sometimes 
visit  the  soul  as  harbingers  of  some  great  approaching 
Providence,  and  which,  to  the  disciples  flushed  with 
exultation  and  joy,  would  naturally  assume  the  form 
and  hue  of  their  own  hopes.  Or  it  may  have  been 
impressed  on  them  by  the  manner  and  language  of 
Christ  as  the  Last  Hour  drew  near — to  him  the  Hour 
of  the  Power  of  Darkness,  to  them  the  Hour  of  his 
Coronation  and  Universal  Kingship.  They  journeyed  on, 
therefore,  in  eager  joy,  like  a  traveler  approaching  his 
journey's  end,  who  knows  that  the  next  turn  of  the 
road  will  bring  him  into  full  view  of  his  home.  But, 
as  sometimes  a  great  joy  brings  with  it  a  great  Fear,  as 
the  traveler's  heart  sinks  suddenly  within  him,  if,  as  he 
draws  near  his  home,  a  wail  of  grief  be  borne  upon  his 
ears,  so  we  find  that  on  this  occasion  a  nameless  dread 
fell  on  the  Twelve.  Mark  says:  "  And  they  were  in 
the  way  going  to  Jerusalem,  and  Jesus  went  before 
them ;  and  they  were  amazed ;  and  as  they  followed 
they  were  afraid."  Observe  the  particulars.  Full  of  the 
joy  and  exultation  with  which  the  recent  promises  and 
declarations  of  Christ  had  filled  their  souls,  and  hav- 
ing their  Divine  Leader  in  the  midst  of  them,  "they 
were  in  the  way  going  up  to  Jerusalem ;  when  lo ! 
their  Lord  withdrew  himself  from  them  and  went  on 
alone.  The  dread  Hour  of  his  Loneliness  was  drawing 
nigh.  Behold,  the  hour  cometh,  yea,  is  now  come, 
that  ye  shall  be  scattered  every  man  to  his  own,  and 
shall  leave  me  alo^ie  !  Alone  is  he  to  tread  the  wine- 
press :  Alone  to  face  the  Powers  of  Darkness  :  Alo7ie 
to  bear  the  world's  sin  :  Alone  to  enter  the  Holiest 
Place  to  appear  before  God  for  man.  And  now  as  the 
.shadow  of  that  great  and  lonely,  sorrow  falls  on  his 
spirit,  what  can  he  do  but  retire  from  those  childhke 


1 84  LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 

men,  flushed  as  they  are  with  a  blind  joy,  and  occupied 
as  each  is  with  his  own  httle  dream  of  greatness.     But 
observe  that  in  withdrawing  from  them  he  does  not  lag 
behind,   nor   turn   aside.      "Jesus  went  before   them." 
No  shrinking,  no  faltering;  firmly,  resolutely,  he  leads 
the  way.     But  now  that  mysterious  and  silent  solitari- 
ness   fixes   their    attention    and    troubles    their    souls. 
"They  are  amazed;"  that  loneliness,  that  silence,  that 
eager   resolution — what    can    it    all    mean?       At    first 
am.azed,   their    astonishment    soon    deepens  into    fear, 
"  As  they  follow  they  are  afraid."     They  too  begin  to 
enter  the  shadow,  and  trembling  possesses  them.    Then 
the  Master,  knowing  by  Divine  Sympathy  their  state, 
and  that  now  they  are  better  prepared  to  hear  the  sad 
truth  of  which  it  is  so  necessary  to  remiind  them,  min- 
gles with  them  once  more  and  begins  to  address  them, 
saying,  "Behold,    we  go   up   to  Jerusalem."    Observe 
how  he  has  come  forth  out  of  that  "  lofty  solitariness  " 
in  which  he  was  just  now  enshrouded,  and  makes  him- 
self 07te  of  them.     "  We  go  up  to  Jerusalem."    There 
for  the  third  time  recorded,  he  tells  them  what  is  about 
to  befall  himself.      "The  Son  of  Man  shall  be  betrayed 
unto  the   chief  priests  and   unto  the  scribes,  and  they 
shall  condemn  him  to  death,  and  shall  deliver  him  to 
the  Gentiles   to  mock  and  to   scourge  and  to  crucify ; 
and  the  third  day  he  shall  rise  again."    How  full,  perfect 
and  distinct  his  knowledge  of  all  that  was  to  befall  him, 
of  each  particular  suffering,  anguish  and  shame.     And 
this  was  what  he  had  just  been  contemplating ;  it  was 
to  meet  this  that  he  went  forth  so  calmly  and  courage- 
ously!    "But  they,"  says  Luke,  "understood  none  of 
these  things,  and  this  saying  was  hid  from  them.    Neither 
knew  they  the  things  which  were  spoken."    Do  we  won- 
der  at   their  blindness,   their  Vv^ant   of  understanding  ? 
True,  they  were  not  blameless.     The  saying,  dark  and 


SERMONS.  185 

troublous  as  it  was,  should  not  have  been  hid  altogether 
from  them!  Still  let  us  make  all  just  allowances.  Let 
us  remember  how  difficult  it  was  for  a  Jew  to  reconcile 
such  degradation,  suffering  and  shame,  with  the  exalta- 
tion, power  and  glory  of  the  Messiah.  Let  us  remem- 
ber again  that  this  was  not  the  first  time  that  they  had 
heard  such  words ;  and  this  fact,  although,  regarded  from 
one  point  of  view,  it  might  seem  to  aggravate  their 
blamev^^orthiness,  yet  looked  at  from  another,  it  would 
seem  to  lessen  it.  For  since  those  previous  occasions 
on  which  these  strange  words  had  been  uttered,  had 
they  not  daily  heard  the  "  Kingdom  of  heaven"  spoken 
of,  and  had  not  Christ  so  lately  foretold  a  regeneration 
in  which  they  should  sit  on  twelve  thrones,  besides 
promising  that  they  should  receive  a  hundredfold  in 
this  life  for  their  devotion  and  self-sacrifice  in  his  serv- 
ice ?  Let  us  remember,  moreover,  what  strong  and  sud- 
den transitions  their  feelings  had  just  undergone. 

In  rapid  succession  Hope,  Astonishment,  and  Fear 
had  filled,  oppressed,  and  shaken  their  souls.  They 
were  still  trembling  from  the  latter  when  those  forebod- 
ing words  fell  on  their  ears.  What  more  natural  in  such 
a  state  of  mental  prostration  than  that  they  should  be 
stunned,  overwhelmed  on  the  one  hand  by  what  was 
dark,  mysterious  and  alarming  in  those  words,  and 
blindly  catch  on  the  other  at  whatever  might  afford  en- 
couragement and  hope.  And  v/hat  of  promise  might 
not  be  contained  in  those  closing  words — "the  third  day 
he  shall  rise  again. "  To  minds  so  suddenly  brought 
down  from  a  state  of  joyous  hope  to  one  of  bodeful, 
dimly  understood  fear,  one  such  hope-breathing  word 
would  as  suddenly  remove  the  load  v/hich  weighed  them 
down,  and  cause  their  minds  at  once  to  spring  back  to 
their  original  level  of  joyous  and  eager  expectation. 
Now  it  is  at  just  such  a  moment  of  trembling  hope,  of 


1 86  LLEWELYN    lOAN     EVANS. 

bewildered  expectancy,  of  shaken  conviction  striving  to 
reassure  and  to  intensify  itself,  that  the  mind  in  its  anx- 
iety to  test  the  security  of  its  hold  upon  the  future,  puts 
forth  its  niost  secret  desires,  and  seeks  to  embody  them 
in  something  tangible,  something  at  hand.  When  the 
soul  is  just  recovering  from  the  sudden  shock  of  some 
momentary  doubt,  its  most  secret  hopes  will  escape 
from  it  unawares,  and  the  lingering  shadow  of  the  doubt, 
the  bewildered  eagerness  of  the  soul  not  yet  fully  un- 
derstanding itself,  nor  fully  master  of  its  desires,  prompts 
a  reaching  forth  to  the  hoped  for  good,  not  so  much  to 
grasp  it  as  yet,  as  to  make  sure  that  it  is  not  an  airy 
dream,  but  a  reality.  Such  was  the  disciples'  state  of 
mind  at  this  time,  manifesting  itself,  however,  in  one 
form  in  two  of  the  disciples,  and  in  another  among  the 
remaining  ten.  The  feeling,  however,  was  essentially  the 
same  in  all. 

We  begin  with  the  first  form  of  its  manifestation. 
Then  came  to  him  the  mother  of  Zebedee's  children 
with  her  two  sons,  worshiping  him,  and  desiring  a  cer- 
tain thing  of  him,  and  he  said  unto  her,  "  What  wilt 
thou  !  "  She  saith  unto  him,  "Grant  that  these  my  two 
sons  may  sit,  the  one  on  thy  right  hand,  and  the  other 
on  the  left,  in  thy  kingdom."  Although  Salome,  the 
mother,  is  represented  as  the  speaker,  and  although  un- 
doubtedly her  maternal  pride  and  love  would  engage 
her  interest  in  behalf  of  her  sons,  still  it  is  evident  from 
the  reply  of  Jesus,  and  the  conduct  of  the  other  disci- 
ples, that  we  are  to  identify  John  and  James  with  their 
mother  in  the  request:  and  in  Mark's  account  of  the 
scene,  the  mother  is  not  mentioned  at  all.  We  inquire 
therefore,  how  came  this  request  to  be  made  by  tJiese 
two  disciples? 

In  accordance  with  the  theory  of  the  case  already 
suggested,  this  request  was  an  impulsive  expression  of 


SERMONS.  187 

the  form  which  their  hopes  and  desires  in  respect  to 
the  future  had  taken  in  their  own  minds.  To  sit  on 
the  right  hand  and  on  the  left  of  Christ  in  his  kingdom 
was  to  occupy  the  highest  positions  both  of  honor  and 
of  trust. 

This  then  was  the  secret  ambition  of  these  two  men : 
to  be  nearest  to  Christ  in  official  rank,  and  also  in  per- 
sonal confidence,  and  now  in  their  peculiar  state  of 
mind,  they  by  an  irresistible  impulse  betrayed  it.  But 
next  the  question  arises  why  did  these  two,  James  and 
John,  in  particular  entertain  and  express  this  ambition? 
And  here  you  will  observe  that  the  question  concerns 
principally  the  expression  of  the  wish,  for  as  we  shall  see 
presently  the  wish  itself  was  not  peculiar  to  them. 
Leaving  then  out  of  consideration  the  doubtful  supposi- 
tion of  some  that  Salome  was  the  sister  of  Joseph,  the 
reputed  father  of  Jesus,  we  find  one  ground  of  the  am- 
bition of  these  men  in  their  character.  It  is  abundantly 
evident  that  James  and  John  were  both  ardent,  impul- 
sive, large-hearted,  whole-souled  men.  They  gave  very 
decisive  evidence  of  this,  just  about  this  time.  Luke 
relates  that  during  this  same  journey  he  sent  messengers 
"before  his  face  into  a  village  of  the  Samaritans  to 
make  ready  for  him.  And  they  did  not  receive  him, 
because  his  face  was  as  though  he  would  go  to  Jernsa- 
lem."  And  when  James  and  John  saw  this,  they  said 
v/ith  characteristic  impetuosity,  "Lord,  wilt  thou  that 
we  command  fire  to  come  down  from  heaven  and  con- 
sume them  as  Ellas  did?"  Again  it  is  said  tliat  Christ 
surnamed  John  and  James  Boanerges,  which  is,  Sons 
of  thunder:  in  allusion  most  likely  to  their  character. 
And  this  same  ardency  of  temperament  will  perhaps 
serve  to  account  for  the  fact  that  one  of  them,  James, 
was  the  first  of  all  the  Apostles  to  suffer  martyrdom, 
and  that  the  other,  John,  was  the  bo:-:om-friend  of  Jesus. 


1 88  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

Such  characters  were  not  the  men  to  do  things  by- 
halves,  especially  when,  being  brothers,  each  would 
naturally  know  and  encourage  the  aspirations  of  the 
other.  Their  ambition  would  reach  up  to  the  highest 
pitch  attainable.  And  the  same  impetuosity  of  Spirit 
will  account  for  their  being  the  first  to  express  their  am- 
bitious wish.  They  were  too  impulsive  as  well  as  too 
honest  to  go  about  wearing  a  look  of  hypocritical  hu- 
mility, and  making  a  false  impression  of  a  modesty 
which  they  did  not  feel.  They  zvaiitcd  to  be  first,  and 
they  said  so. 

It  would  seem  at  first  as  though  such  a  demonstra- 
tion would  be  made  by  the  impetuous  Peter  before  all 
the  others.  But  on  examination  it  will  be  found,  I 
think,  that  the  impetuosity  of  Peter  was  that  of  will ; 
the  impetuosity  of  John  and  James  that  of  feeling. 
The  former  would  rush  to  the  breach  when  something 
was  to  be  done;  the  latter  would  be  so  carried  av/ay  by 
their  emotions  as  not  to  know  what  to  do.  Peter  did 
not  stop  to  ask  Christ  about  the  servant  of  Malchus, 
' '  Lord,  wilt  thou  that  I  take  my  sword  out  of  my  scab- 
bard and  cut  off  this  man's  ear?"  He  did  it.  And, 
therefore  it  is,  that  on  this  occasion,  when  the  disciples' 
feelings  were  moved  without  any  cause  for  immediate 
action,  John  and  James  were  the  spokesmen  rather 
than  Peter. 

Another  ground  of  their  ambition  may  be  found  in 
the  fact  that  they  were  cv'idQntly  favored  disciples. 

One  of  these,  we  have  seen,  was  Christ's  bosom  friend, 
who  was  wont  to  recline  next  to  him  at  the  table,  and 
who  speaks  of  himself  as  the  disciple  whom  Jesus 
loved.  They,  with  Peter,  were  the  sole  witnesses  of  the 
transfiguration,  and  also  of  the  resurrection  of  the 
daughter  of  Jairus,  besides  which  we  find  various  other 
indications   of   favor.     Once  more,    their    mother    was 


SERMONS.  189 

with  them,  who  had  herself  followed  Christ  when  he 
was  in  Galilee,  and  ministered  unto  him,  and  who 
might  perhaps  consider  that  this  fact  would  give  weight 
to  her  petitions  in  behalf  of  her  sons.  At  all  events 
she  formed  the  bond  between  the  brothers  on  this  occa- 
sion, and  was  their  medium  of  approach  to  Christ;  and 
the  fact  of  their  having  such  a  medium  must  be  taken 
into  account  as  one  of  the  probable  occasions  of  their 
making  the  request. 

But  let  us  now  turn  our  attention  to  the  expression 
which  the  common  feeling  of  the  disciples  took  i}i  the 
remaining  ten.  ' '  When  the  ten  heard  it,  they  were 
moved  with  indignation  against  the  two  brethren."  Of 
course  !  How  dared  they  express  for  themselves  the 
secret  ambition  of  each  one  of  the  rest  ?  For  we 
know  that  each  one  did  covet  the  highest  position  for 
himself,  since  again  and  again  they  disputed  among 
themselves  who  should  be  the  greatest,  and  the  reply 
of  Christ  shows  that  this  was  the  predominant  passion 
at  this  time.  And  now  when  two  of  their  number  had 
the  audacity  to  try  to  snatch  the  prize  from  all  the 
others,  how  could  they  help  feeling  aggrieved,  yea, 
more,  indignant  ?  And  in  all  probability  their  indigna- 
tion assumed  an  extremely  self-complacent  form.  Such 
is  the  inconsistency  of  poor  human  nature,  that  they 
flattered  themselves,  no  doubt,  that  they  were  glowing 
with  a  highly  virtuous  indignation  against  the  insuffer- 
able pride  and  selfisJiness  of  the  sons  of  Zebedee  for 
daring  to  anticipate  themselves. 

Having  thus  endeavored  to  get  an  idea  of  the  posi- 
tion of  the  disciples,  and  the  state  of  their  feelings, 
there  remains  to  consider  the  replies  of  Christ,  first — to 
the  brothers,  then — to  the  ten.  And  here  v/e  cannot 
help  noticing  the  great  gentleness  and  tenderness  of  his 
reply  to  James  and  John.      "  Ye  know  not  what  ye  ask," 


190  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

spoken,  as  I  conceive,  not  sharply,  reproachfully,  but 
mildly,  compassionately,  lovingly,  as  though  he  should 
say :  "  What  ye  desire,  my  beloved,  is  indeed  the  high- 
est and  worthiest  object  which  man  can  seek,  and  I  can 
but  honor  and  love  even  this  blind  reaching  forth  of 
yours  toward  it.  Would,  however,  that  you  fully 
understood  yourselves,  and  knew  what  you  ask  for  !  " 

Do  we  understand  this  gentleness  of  Jesus?  Cer- 
tainly not  in  the  full  depth  and  beauty  of  it,  but  some 
of  its  features  we  perhaps  may  see.  Do  we  not,  for 
instance,  see  something  here  of  that  love  of  honesty  and 
doivnrigJit  sincerity,  which  so  eminently  characterized 
Jesus  ?  Did  he  not  see  in  the  outspoken  frankness  of 
these  men,  so  free  from  all  false  affectation  of  humility, 
something  noble  and  manly?  Again,  did  he  not  rec- 
ognize in  this  frank  request  of  theirs  a  feeling  of  strong 
personal  attachment  to  himself?  Can  the  mother  chide 
harshly  her  own  child  whose  greatest  fault  is  that  it 
loves  her  too  well  to  bear  to  be  away  from  her?  And 
is  it  likely  that  Clirist  would  be  very  severe  on  those 
whose  highest  blessedness  it  was  to  be  nearest  their 
Lord,  whom  to  be  with  and  to  love  forever  is  heaven  ? 
And  above  all,  do  we  not  see  here  a  little  of  that 
mystery  of  divine  sympathy  in  Christ  by  which  he 
clothes  man  in  his  own  righteousness  ;  by  which  he 
looks  upon  our  imperfect  prayers,  and  wishes,  and 
efforts  in  the  light  of  what  in  them  is  from  himself; 
translates  our  stammering  words  into  the  language  of 
his  own  Divine  heart ;  surrounds  our  fluttering  aspira- 
tions with  the  atmosphere  of  his  own  love,  and  lifts 
them  to  heaven  ;  bathes  our  souls  in  the  radiance  of 
his  own  infinite  beauty  ;  idealizes  our  characters  into 
his  own  perfect  image,  which  they  now  so  faintly 
reflect ;  and  regards  us,  not  as  we  are  now  in  ourselves, 
but  as  we  shall  be  when  that  which  is  earthly  is  put 


SERMONS.  191 

off,  and  we  are  clothed  upon  by  that  which  is  heaveni)'-, 
having  fully  put  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Thus,  therefore,  instead  of  reproving  the  pride  of  the 
disciples,  as  some  of  us  might  have  done,  he  seems  to 
regard  their  request  as  springing  from  the  germ,  at  least, 
of  a  noble  asph'ation ;  instead  of  blaming  them  for  v/hat 
was  earthly  and  materialistic  in  their  views,  he  seems 
to  sympathize  with  the  difficulty  v/hich  they  met  in 
having  perfectly  just  views  of  the  matter,  and  looking  at 
them  in  loving  admiration,  to  feel :  What  truthfulness ! 
What  affection !  What  lofty-mindedness  I  What  de- 
voted zeal!  Thus,  as  it  were,  idealizing  the  spark  of 
love  which  now  flickers  so  dimly  and  uncertainly,  and 
amid  so  much  impure  smoke,  into  that  pure  flame  of 
heroic  self-sacrifice  v;hich  burned  so  brightly  in  the 
martyrdom  of  James,  and  in  the  life-long  endurance 
and  love  of  John. 

In  no  other  way  does  it  appear  to  me  can  we  under- 
stand the  reply  of  Christ,  and  it  seems  to  be  from  a 
failure  properly  to'  appreciate  this  Divine  Sympathy  of 
the  Redeemer  that  so  many  commentators  have  either 
attempted  to  put  a  harsher  co!":struction  on  the  reply  of 
Christ  than  his  words  and  the  spirit  of  the  scene  can 
possibly  justify ;  or  else  have  expressed  their  undisguised 
astonishment  at  the  exceeding  gentleness  of  his  manner 
towards  them.  I  do  not  deny  that  there  might  have 
been  a  tender  sadness  in  his  tone ;  and  that  the  mourn- 
ful compassionateness  of  his  look  and  voice  ought  to 
have  caused  some  m.isgivings  in  their  minds  about  the 
character  or  form  of  their  petition,  v/hen  the  Master 
said:  "Ye  know  not  what  ye  ask.  Are  ye  able  to  drink 
of  the  cup  that  I  shall  drink  of,  and  to  be  baptized  with 
the  baptism  that  I  am  baptized  with  ?"  But  they  were 
too  eagerly  intent  on  securing  their  desire  to  heed  the 
significance  of  Christ's  manner,  or  to  feel  the  great  dis- 


192  LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 

proportionatcncss  between  that  which  they  coveted,  and 
that  which  Christ  held  out  to  them,  and  so  they  answer 
unhesitatingly,  "  We  are  able."  How  truly  had  Jesus 
said:    "  Ye  know  not  what  ye  ask." 

But  how  did  they  understand  this  question  of  Christ  ? 
We  know  that  the  cup  of  which  Christ  was  to  drink  was 
the  cup  of  suffering,  and  that  the  baptism  wherewith  he 
was  to  be  baptized  was  the  baptism  of  blood.  Did  they 
thus  understand  him  ?  Or  did  they  suppose,  as  some 
affirm,  that  he  spoke  of  drinking  of  the  royal  cup,  and 
washing  their  hands  in  the  royal  ewer — marks  of  the 
highest  distinction  and  honor  ?  There  can  be  but  little 
doubt  that  they  understood  the  words  in  their  true  sense, 
though  not  in  their  full  meaning,  as  is  apparent  from 
the  subsequent  words  of  Christ,  as  well  as  their  own  re- 
ply. And  besides  the  question  was  put  in  such  a  form 
that  they  could  not  easily  misunderstand  it. 

The  veiy  first  word  oi  the  question  implied  something 
else  than  a  mark  of  favor:  ''  Arc  ye  able  T'  Implying 
that  what  he  was  about  to  propose  required  effort, 
strength,  resolution.  And  their  reply  shows  that  they 
thus  understood  it:  "  We  are  able."  Admitting  now 
that  they  knew  not  well  what  they  said,  granting  that 
they  knew  not  the  bitterness  of  the  cup,  nor  the  ter- 
rors of  the  baptism,  and,  that  perhaps  they  erroneously 
supposed  the  suffering  of  Christ  held  out  before  them 
to-  be  but  a  brief  transition  to  the  glory  of  his  reign,  is 
there  not,  after  all,  enough  left  for  us  to  admire  in  their 
self-sacrificing  devotion  to  Christ,  and  in  their  lofty  con- 
fidence in  his  power  both  to  triumph  himself,  and  to 
help  them  to  triumph  in  the  approaching  struggle,  and 
to  end  by  reigning  over  all  ?  Such,  at  least,  seems  to 
have  been  the  view  which  Christ  took  of  their  reply. 
He  recognizes  the  earnestness  of  their  self-consecration 
and  the   sincerity  of  their  purpose ;  he   even   tenderly 


SERMONS,  193 

foreshadows  to  them  the  fact  that  the  hour  is  coming 
when  they  sJiall  drink  of  his  cup  and  share  his  bap- 
tism. He  does  not  deny  that  there  are  degrees  of 
honor  in  his  kingdom,  and  positions  of  power  and  inti- 
macy with  himself  to  which  his  followers  may  lawfully 
aspire ;  nor  does  he  intimate,  as  many  think,  that  they 
might  7iot  attain  to  such  positions ;  he,  however,  tells 
them  mildly  yet  firmly,  that  their  wish  could  not  be 
obtained  as  a  gift  instantaneously  bestowed  upon  them, 
but  must  be  reached  throuph  :i.  preparatory  course  of  dis- 
cipline, by  the  Father.  "And  he  saith  unto  them,  ye 
shall  drink  indeed  of  my  cup,  and  be  baptized  with  the 
baptism  that  I  am  baptized  with  ;  but  to  sit  on  my 
right  hand  and  on  my  left,  it  is  not  mine  to  give,  ex- 
cept to  those  for  whom  it  is  prepared  of  my  Father." 
Our  version  which  reads,  "  it  is  not  mine  to  give,  but  it  shall 
be  given  to  them  for  whom  it  is  prepared,"  impairs  the 
force  of  the  passage :  first,  by  taking  away  the  granting 
of  the  gift  from  Christ ;  next,  by  failing  to  bring  out 
properly  the  antithesis  between  giving  and  preparing ; 
the  former  expressing  the  instantaneous  bestowment  of 
the  honor,  the  latter  the  disciplinary  process  through 
which  it  is  reached — "It  is  not  mine  to  give,  except  to 
those  for  whom  it  is  prepared  by  my  Father." 

The  whole  reply  accordingly  implies  a  recognition  of 
the  legitimacy  of  a  pure  and  lofty  Christian  aspira- 
tion : — a  loving  appreciation  of  the  real  earnestness  of 
these  two  disciples : — a  gentle  intimation  of  the  future 
trial  and  triumph  of  their  faith : — and  the  distinct  an- 
nouncement of  discipli7ie  as  the  law  of  advancement  in 
the  Kingdom  of  Christ.  Such,  then,  was  the  character 
of  this  interview  between  Christ  and  Salome,  with  her 
two  sons,  forming  at  the  time  a  little  group  by  them- 
selves. Meanwhile,  the  Ten  who  were  probably  near 
enough  to   witness  the  whole   interview,  were,   as  we 


194  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

have  already  seen,  excited  by  deep  indignation  against 
the  selfishness  and  presumption  of  their  two  compan- 
ions who  had  so  rashly  and  unexpectedly  dared  to  step 
between  themselves  and  the  prize.  Jesus  seeing  this, 
called  them  unto  him,  and  said:  "Ye  know  that  the 
princes  of  the  Gentiles  exercise  dominion  over  them, 
and  they  that  are  great  exercise  authority  upon  them. 
Not  so  shall  it  be  among  you,  but  whosoever  will  be 
great  among  you,  let  him  be  your  minister,  and  Avho- 
soever  will  be  chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant; 
even  as  the  Son  of  man  came  not  to  be  ministered 
unto,  but  to  minister,  and  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for 
many." 

Here  let  me  ask :  Does  it  not  strike  you  that  there 
is  a  difference  between  the  conduct  of  Christ  toward 
the  Ten,  and  his  conduct  toward  the  two  Brothers? 
Do  you  not  detect  a  new  element  in  his  language? 
True,  there  is  tenderness,  sympathy,  love,  as  before, 
and  as  always  in  Christ's  words ;  but  does  not  this 
seem  tempered  with  a  degree  of  decisiveness,  almost 
sternness,  even?  Compare  the  compassionate  tender- 
ness of  his  remarks  to  the  brothers:  "Ye  know  not 
what  ye  ask,"  with  his  abrupt  and  pointed  reference  to 
the  ambition  of  the  world  and  its  rulers,  in  his  first  re- 
marks to  the  Ten:  "Ye  know  that  the  princes  of  the 
Gentiles  exercise  dominion  over  them."  Compare 
again  his  m.ild  questioning  of  the  former :  "  Are  ye 
able  to  drink  of  the  cup  that  I  shall  drink  of,"  with 
the  strong  decisive  ^* Not  so"  addressed  to  the  latter: 
"Not  so  shall  it  be  among  you." 

Why,  now,  this  mildness  in  the  one  case,  and  this 
comparative  peremptoriness  in  thq  other  ?  Does  it  not 
seem  to  be  founded  on  the  difference  of  disposition 
which  we  have  already  noticed?  Was  it  not  because 
there  was  inoj'e  honesty  and  sincerity  in  the  former  case 


SERMONS.  195 

than  in  the  latter?  I  do  not  say, observe,  thtit  originally 
the  feelings  and  motives  of  James  and  John  were  any 
more  pure  and  sincere  than  those  of  Peter,  Andrew, 
Philip,  and  the  rest.  They  were  all  alike,  simple,  un- 
sophisticated Jews,  who  had  found  the  Messiah ;  who 
had  abandoned  all  to  follow  him  ;  who  had  very  good 
reason  for  believing  that  they  should  share  the  glory  of 
his  coming  Kingship ;  who  entertained  a  fond  desire  to 
be  nearest  to  their  Lord  in  his  and  their  exaltation — a 
desire  which  was  certainly  very  natural,  and  in  some  of 
its  features  a  very  amiable  one ;  not  altogether  sinful 
therefore,  although  at  times  it  assumed,  we  must  say, 
a  decidedly  selhsh  form.  And  at  this  particular  junc- 
ture, as  we  have  seen,  this  desire  with  all  its  concom- 
itant feelings,  had  been  quickened  and  stimulated  to  an 
extraordinary  pitch  of  excitement,  which  impelled  it  to 
demonstrations  much  stronger  and  more  marked  than 
was  usual.  In  its  simple  form,  therefore,  this  feeling 
was  not  sincerer  or  purer  in  the  case  of  James  and  Jolni 
than  in  the  case  of  the  others.  But  everything  depends 
on  the  use  which  a  man  makes  of  his  feelings,  on  the 
Practicalissue  v/hich  he  gives  to  them.  John  and  James 
made  an  honest  use  of  their  feelings.  They  went  straight 
to  Jesus,  and  told  him  their  most  secret  thought.  We 
have  seen  how  Jesus  received  them.  The  others  were 
not  so  honest.  Each  one  nourished  his  ambition  within 
himself,  and  brooded  over  it  in  the  recesses  of  his  own 
heart,  the  tendency  of  which  is  always  evil,  as  in  this 
case.  For  no  sooner  did  the  other  two  disciples  tread 
on  it,  than  like  a  viper  coiled  up  in  the  long  grass,  it 
sprung  up  fiercely,  breathing  selfish  jealousy  and  envi- 
ous indignation.  Then  Christ  holds  up  the  mirror  be- 
fore it  that  it  may  see  itself  in  all  its  ugliness.  "Ye 
know  that  the  princes  of  the  Gentiles  exercise  dominion 
over  them,  and  they  that  are  great  exercise  authority 


196  LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 

upon  them."  TJicre  in  the  pride  and  selfishness  of  the 
princes  of  the  Gentiles,  Christ  holds  up  before  them 
the  image,  or  at  least  the  legitimate  development  of 
their  own. 

It  is,  perhaps,  impossible  for  us  to  understand  the 
meaning  which  these  words  tJien  spoken,  had  for  a  Jezv. 
Rome  was  then  in  the  zenith  of  her  glory.  Roman 
Rule — Roman  Law — Roman  Right — Roman  Vengeance 
were  everywhere.  Rome  was  the  world ;  the  world 
was  Rome. 

And  never  was  Power,  Authority,  the  State,  any- 
thing like  what  it  was  in  the  Roman  Empire.  It  was 
all  in  all.  The  State  was  everything:  the  individual 
nothing.  Soon  after  the  time  of  our  Saviour  this  idea 
attained  at  the  same  time  its  consummation  and  its  fall  in 
the  deification  of  the  Emperor.  But  nowhere  was  this 
pov/er  felt  more  crushingly  and  at  the  same  time  more 
rebelliously  than  in  Palestine.  There  the  yoke  of  the 
stranger  was  on  God's  own  people.  There  the  false 
gods  of  the  heathen  had  invaded  the  chosen  precincts 
of  the  only  true  and  living  God.  There  the  Roman 
Emperor  was  a  usurper  of  the  throne  of  Jehovah.  Thus 
to  a  Jew,  state  domination — earthly  rule,  was  synony- 
mous not  only  with  oppression,  extortion  and  rapine, 
but  also  with  blasphemy  and  sacrilege.  Such  was  the 
image  of  selfish  and  worldly  ambition  which  Christ  now 
held  up  to  his  disciples.  They  had  dreamed  and  talked 
of  a  Kingdom  of  Heaven — of  a  New  Jerusalem:  they 
looked  in  the  mirror,  and  behold !  to  their  shame  and 
dismay,  it  was  Rome.  And  now  in  contrast  to  Rome, 
Christ  exhibits  to  them  his  own  Kingdom.  "Not  so 
shall  it  be  among  you :  but  whosoever  will  be  great 
among  you,  let  him  be  your  minister,  arid  whosoever 
will  be  chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant." 
No,  my  Beloved  !  the  New  Jerusalem  is  not  Rome.     In 


SERMONS. 


197 


my  Kingdom,  to  be  great  is  to  be  humble : — to  be  first 
is,  not  to  be  served,  but  to  serve : — to  be  chief  is,  not 
to  sit  on  a  throne,  but  to  bend  down  to  wash  the  feet 
of  the  humblest  disciple:  to  be  a  King  is,  not  to  wear 
a  crown,  but  to  carry  a  cross: — to  have  pov/er  is  to  do 
good: — to  live  is  to  die,  and  to  die  daily.  "Even  as 
the  Son  of  Man,"  the  Highest,  the  first  of  all — the  King 
of  Heaven  and  Earth — "came  not  /^  <5r  ministered  unto, 
but  to  minister,  and  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  m.any. " 
And  thus  he  leads  them  once  more  into  the  shadow  of 
the  great  coming  Sorrow:  and  there  we  shall  now  leave 
them,  sadder,  and  let  us  hope,  wiser  men. 

It  has  been  the  aim  of  this  Discourse  not  to  enlarge 
upon  the  great  and  important  principles  recognized  and 
announced  by  Christ  in  the  words  of  the  text,  but  to 
enter  a  little  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene — to  appreciate 
as  far  as  possible  the  feelings  and  actions  of  the  disci- 
ples— and  to  see  and  feel  to  some  extent  the  wonderful 
and  Divine  Sympathy  of  Jesus :  in  the  belief  that  the 
more  we  can  understand  of  the  history  of  Christ,  the 
more  we  can  penetrate  the  depth,  beauty,  and  tender- 
ness of  his  character,  the  nearer  we  can  come  to  that 
Infinite  Heart  of  Love,  which  throbs  in  every  look, 
word,  and  act  of  his  the  better,  the  stronger,  the  more 
Godlike  shall  we  become.  Let  us  now  recall  a  few  of 
the  more  prominent  lessons  here  taught  us.  In  James 
and  John,  we  have  seen  the  inestimable  worth  of  truth, 
of  manly  sincerity.  Very  wise  we  cannot  call  them,  at 
least  on  this  occasion.  Indeed  it  was  very  foolish  of 
them  to  encounter  the  prejudices  and  hostility  of  the 
rest  by  such  a  course  as  they  pursued.  Such  young 
men  moreover:  probably  about  the  youngest  members 
of  the  company.  Truly  we  cannot  say  that  they  were 
over  prudent,  or  considerate,  or  altogether  as  modest 
as   was  becoming.      But  they    were   downright   honest; 


198  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

they  were  shtcere  out  and  out.  And  they  loved  Christ, 
and  wanted  to  be  near  him.  And  Christ  knew  this. 
?Ie  read  their  souls  in  their  looks,  and  he  could  not 
help  loving  them.  And  how  gently  he  treats  them  as 
a  mother  treats  a  child  who  is  naughty  from  excess  of 
fondness.  He  seems  almost  to  overlook  their  faults;  al- 
most— not  quite.  He  makes  them  feel  guilty  enough 
before  he  is  through  with  them:  but  so  delicately:  by 
saying  so  little.  A  candid  man  needs  but  little  to  make 
him  feel  his  faults.  Now  Jesus  is  the  same  yesterday 
and  to-day;  still  he  loves  honesty,  genuineness,  sincer- 
ity. He  loves  to  have  his  disciples  come  to  him,  and 
open  their  hearts  before  him.  He  loves  to  hear  them 
ask  all  they  want.  No  matter  how  poor  the  wish, 
nor  how  lame  the  language,  nor  how  much  you 
may  be  ashamed  of  it,  take  it  to  Christ,  my  brother, 
and  he  will  accept  it  with  such  infinite  grace  from  your 
hands,  he  will  regard  it  with  such  favor,  and  in  his 
smile  it  will  look  so  beautiful,  that  you  will  hardly  be 
able  to  recognize  it  for  the  poor  worthless  thing  which 
you  laid  at  his  feet.  And  if  while  meaning  well  you 
do  make  any  mistake,  he  will  let  you  know  it  in  such 
a  way,  and  teach  you  better  with  such  condescension 
and  love,  that  you  will  almost  feel  tempted  to  be 
thankful  that  you  fell  into  the  mistake  for  the  sake  of 
the  lesson.  Trust  Christ.  He  says,  "It  is  I:  be 
not  afraid."  Tell  him  all — He  loves  to  be  trusted,  and 
he  will  reward  your  confidence.  Keep  your  Heart- 
door  open :  Christ  will  walk  in,  and  sup  with  you,  and 
you  with  him. 

In  the  ten  disciples  we  may  learn  how  good  men,  by 
failing  to  be  thoroughly  Jioiu^st  with  themselves,  fall  into 
sin.  We  can  not  help  sympathizing  largely  with  the 
Ten  on  this  occasion.  Each  one  had  sacrificed  his  all 
no  less    than   the    sons  of  Zebedce:  Christ's  promises 


SERMONS.  199 

were  his  as  much  as  any  other's ;  and  it  must  have  been 
extremely  trying  for  a  man  like  Peter,  e.  g..,  so  m.uch 
older  in  years,  and  not  wanting  in  self-respect  either, 
as  we  very  well  know,  to  see  such  forwardness  on  the 
part  of  these  youths.  On  the  whole,  it  was  certainly 
very  hard  to  show  much  forbearance  at  such  a  time. 
But  the  trouble  is  they  were  not  Jionest  in  the  matter. 
They  stood  aside  and  murmured  together,  and  worked 
themselves  and  each  other  into  a  state  of  righteous  in- 
dignation against  the  pride  of  these  young  men,  when 
they  themselves  were  every  whit  as  proud.  They  fretted 
away  their  jealousy  in  a  factitious  wrath  against  selfish- 
ness ;  and  clothed  their  own  pride  in  a  false  humility. 
They  were  dishonest ;  than  which  nothing  is  more  op- 
posed to  the  spirit  of  Christ.  He  hates  all  pride ;  but 
of  all  forms  of  it,  he  hates  most,  false  hum.ility.  He 
hates  all  envy,  but  most  of  all  when  it  cloaks  itself  in  a 
lying  zeal  for  holiness  or  truth.  He  hates  all  sin,  but 
above  all  he  abhors  the  hypocrisy  which  frowns  in 
public  on  the  sin  with  which  it  dallies  in  secret.  Hu- 
mility, Propriety,  Zeal,  all  are  good;  but  honesty  is  bet- 
ter. Be  just  to  all ;  but  don't  forget  to  deal  fairly  by 
yourself.  It  is  very  charitable  to  undertake  to  pick  out 
the  mote  in  your  neighbor's  eye,  but  you  will  do  it 
much  better  when  you  have  taken  tlie  beam  out  of 
your  ov/n.  Brother!  Be  honest  with  yourself.  It  is 
the  first  condition  of  all  sincerity. 

But  let  us  turn  away  from  these  men,  erring  and  im- 
perfect at  best,  to  the  Perfect,  the  Divine  Jesus.  As 
men,  these  were,  indeed,  the  worthiest,  the  truest,  on 
the  whole,  the  best  men  which  this  earth  of  ours  could 
then  boast  of  Yet  how  much  that  is  unworthy,  insin- 
cere, sinful  even  in  them.  How  infinite  the  dift'erence 
between  them  and  Christ.  How  their  meanness  cowered 
in  his   presence !     How  their  insincerities  shriveled  to- 


200  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

gether  in  his  glance !  How  their  selfishness  shrunk  at 
his  words !  How  their  petty  jealousies  slunk  away- 
abashed  !  And  yet,  how,  with  all  their  faults,  he  loved 
them  still  !  How  he  bore  with  their  weaknesses  !  How 
he  recognized  whatever  was  noble,  worthy  and  lovable ! 
How  he  encouraged  every  feeble  aspiration,  and  led  it 
heavenward,  even  "as  an  eagle  stirreth  up  her  nest, 
fluttereth  over  her  young,  spreadcth  abroad  her  wings, 
taketh  them  and  beareth  them  on  her  wings."  How 
gently  he  admonishes  them  of  error;  taking  it  away 
from  them  and  giving  truth  in  its  place,  as  a  mother 
tenderly  takes  from  her  child  a  dangerous  tool,  by  giv- 
ing it  something  which  is  both  beautiful  and  safe.  How 
he  humbled  himself  down  to  them  ;  made  himself  one 
of  them ;  how  in  exhorting  them  to  be  humble,  he 
humbled  himself  to  all ;  how  when  he  called  tJicm  to  go, 
he  led  the  way  ;  how,  as  they  were  to  suffer,  he  suf- 
fered ;  as  tJicy  were  to  give  tlieir  lives  for  one  another, 
he  gave  his  life  for  all.  "  As  the  Son  of  Man  came 
not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister  and  to  give 
his  life  a  ransom  for  many." 

And,  now,  as  by  those  words,  Christ  led  his  disciples 
into  the  shadow  of  the  cross,  let  us  go  there  also. 
"Behold  the  Lamb  of  God."  See  there  the  whole 
life  of  Christ,  consummating  itself  in  the  one  act  of 
death.  For  the  death  of  Christ,  unlike  any  other 
death,  was  an  act.  "  I  lay  down  my  life  that  I  might 
take  it  again.  No  man  taketh  it  from  me.  I  lay  it 
down  of  myself  "  It  was  the  last,  the  highest  act  of  Per- 
fect Sympathy,  of  Divine  Compassion,  of  Infinite  Love. 
The  same  Sympathy — the  same  Compassion — the  same 
Love — which  not  only  on  his  last  journey  to  Jerusalem, 
but  in  every  act  of  his  life  had  throbbed  and  thrilled, 
and  glowed,  and  burned,  now  gathering  itself  together 
for  one  act  of  self-sacrifice,   which  was  to  express  the 


SERMONS.  201 

Love  of  God  forever  !  Brother !  Take  yourself  to  the 
cross !  Take  all  you  have  there.  Take  your  greatness. 
How  small  it  will  appear !  Your  honor,  your  talent, 
your  influence,  your  fame — how  insignificant  and 
worthless ! 

Take  your  sins.  How  black  they  will  look.  Your 
pride — how  unutterably  m.ean  !  Your  envy — how  con- 
temptible !  Your  insincerity — how  you  will  despise  it! 
Your  selfishness — how  you  will  hate  it.  Take  your 
virtues  there.  What  poor  things  they  will  seem.  Your 
love — how  faint !  Your  faith — how  weak  !  Your  sin- 
cerity— how  hollow  !  Your  devoutest  prayers — how 
heartless !  Your  most  heavenly  thoughts — how  grovel- 
ing !  Your  most  beautiful  actions — how  deformed ! 
Will  you  dare  to  trust  in  these?  Or  will  you  not 
rather  trust  in  that  Divine  Sympathy  Avhich  gathers  all 
up  in  itself  and  robes  all  in  its  own  glory  ?  Will  you 
not  rather  trust  in  that  Love,  which  there — on  that 
Cross — is  stronger  than  the  agony  of  death — the  rage 
of  devils,  and  the  hatred  of  the  world,  and  expires, 
sajang :  ' '  Father,  forgive  them,  they  know  not  what 
they  do!" 


IX. 

THE  CHRISTIAN'S   DEBT. 

Romans  i  :  14.   "  For  I  am  debtor  both  to  the  Greeks  ^nd  to  the  Barbarians  ;  both  to 
the  wise  and  to  the  unwise," 

Here  speaks  an  honest  man,  if  ever  an  honest  man 
has  h'ved  in  this  world.  First  we  have  the  honest  con- 
fession of  a  debt,  a  debt  which  multitudes  have  owed 
no  less  than  Paul,  but  which,  not  having  his  honesty, 
they  have  failed  to  acknowledge.  Next,  in  the  verse 
following,  we  have  a'  proof  of  Paul's  honest  purpose  to 
pay  that  debt.  "So  as  much  as  in  me  is,  I  am  ready 
to  preach  the  gospel  to  you  that'  are  at  Rome  also." 
Because  Paul  is  a  debtor  to  the  world,  he  is  anxious 
to  preach  the  gospel  in  Rome-,  in  Rome,  v/e  may  sup- 
pose above  any  other  place,  because  it  is  at  the  time 
of  Paul's  speaking,  the  mistress  of  the  world,  the  ear, 
as  it  is  the  head  and  the  heart,  of  the  globe;  and  to 
preach  the  gospel  in  Rome,  is  to  preach  it  in  the 
world's  pulpit.  If  to  these  words  you  add  the  whole 
story  of  Paul's  life,  you  will  get  a  still  clearer  insight 
into  his  idea  of  life  as  a  debt,  and  a  still  more  vivid 
impression  of  the  grandeur  and  power  of  that  idea. 
Paul,  I  say,  was  an  honest  man.  He  represents  the 
very  highest  type  of  honesty. 

There   are   various   grades   of  honesty  in   the  world. 
One  of  the  most  obvious,  and  at  the  same  time  super- 
ficial,   is  what  we  may  call  material  honesty,    honesty 
(202) 


SERMONS.  203 

touching  material  obligations,  business  integrity,  finan- 
cial rectitude,  honesty  in  money  matters,  money  being 
the  ordinary  equivalent  of  what  these  obligations  rep- 
resent. This  quality  indeed  is  by  no  means  to  be  dis- 
paraged. There  are  occasions  when  it  even  touches 
the  height  of  true  nobility.  In  our  own  times  it  needs 
to  be  emphasized  anew,  for  there  is  none  too  much  of 
it  in  the  land,  although  v/e  would  fain  believe  it  is  not 
so  rare  as  some  indications  would  lead  us  to  fear.  Yet 
after  all,  judging  by  the  m.ore  spiritual  tests,  this  kind 
of  honesty  is  comparatively  superficial.  It  does  not 
need  much  spirituality  or  moral  delicacy  to  see,  that  for 
value  received  there  must  be  value  rendered,  that  when 
a  dollar  is  owed  there  is  a  dollar  to  pay.  In  fact,  there 
are  a  plenty  of  men  in  the  world  whose  financial  hon- 
esty is  irreproachable,  whose  general  morality  is  coarse 
grained  enough.  A  man  whose  word  is  as  good  as  his 
bond,  and  whose  bond  is  as  good  as  gold,  may  have 
a  tongue  all  foul  with  ribald  slime,  and  a  soul  that 
crawls  in  the  mire. 

There  is  an  honesty,  however,  which  looks  beyond 
material  obligations,  which  does  not  limit  the  relations 
of  debtor  and  creditor  to  the  sphere  of  dollars  and 
cents.  It  recognizes  various  forms  of  indebtedness 
within  the  realm  of  the  immaterial.  Among  these 
debts  we  may  name  gratitude,  reverence,  faith,  service. 
The  world's  benefactors  are  its  creditors.  To  those 
who  have  toiled  and  sacrificed  much  for  our  good,  we 
owe  a  debt  of  endless  gratitude.  To  those  who  tower 
above  us  in  loftiness  of  character  and  attainment,  to 
all  that  stands  over  us  in  the  attitude  of  guidance  and 
authority,  we  owe  reverence.  There  is  a  debt  of  faith 
due  from  us  to  all  that  worthily  inspires  confidence. 
There  is  a  debt  of  service,  care  and  help,  which  those 
who  are  dependent  upon  us  may  rightfully  claim  at  our 


204  LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 

hands.  These  are  debts  in  the  proper  sense  of  the 
word,  being  due  from  us  as  truly  as  any  obligations 
that  we  incur  by  buying  or  borrowing.  They  arc  the 
foundation  of  our  duties,  for  as  I  need  not  remind  you, 
debt,  due,  duty,  are  all  simply  variations  of  the  same 
word.  Wherever  there  is  a  duty  there  is  a  debt,  and 
to  be  false  to  duty  is  repudiation.  That  is  our  name 
for  sin :  repudiation.  You  see,  accordingly,  that  true 
honesty  goes  much  deeper  than  the  pocket.  It  pulls 
at  the  heart-strings  as  well  as  the  purse-strings.  It 
has  a  balance  sheet  which  sums  up  not  in  dead  dollars 
and  cents,  but  in  the  living  currency  of  souls.  It  is 
possible,  however,  within  either  of  these  spheres,  the 
material  or  immaterial,  to  take  what  we  may  call  the 
purely  commercial  view  of  what  we  owe.  That  is  to 
some  extent  natural,  perhaps,  seeing  that  a  debt  at  once 
suggests  an  equivalent,  a  quid  pro  quo.  It  is  easy  for 
us  accordingly  to  fall  into  the  way  of  applying  the 
quid  pro  quo  rule ,  to  ask,  What  is  the  value  received 
in  this  case?  How  much  do  I  owe?  What  must  I 
pay?  It  is  possible  and  even  easy  to  take  this  way  of 
estimating  our  obligations,  as  though  they  rested  on  a 
purely  commercial  basis  of  pure  reciprocity,  and  every 
duty  was  a  problem  in  equations. 

I  remark  that  there  is  an  honesty  which  does  not 
stop  to  measure  its  obligations  by  any  merely  legal  or 
commercial  standard,  which  does  not  weigh  its  debts  in 
the  balance  of  simple  reciprocity,  which  does  not  ask, 
How  much  must  I  pay?  There  is  an  honesty  which 
glories  in  its  debts,  which  believes  and  rejoices  in  the 
strange  paradox :  He  that  pays  his  debts  to  God  and 
to  the  world,  shall  owe  more  abundantly,  and  the  more 
he  owes,  and  the  more  he  pays,  the  richer  he  shall  be, 
the  richer  in  possession  for  himself,  and  the  more  fruit- 
ful in  benefit  for  others. 


SERMONS.  205 

This  is  the  honesty  of  which  I  take  Paul  to  be  the 
exponent  when  he  says,  "I  am  debtor  both  to  the 
Greeks  and  to  the  Barbarians,  both  to  the  wise  and  to 
the  unwise,"  or  when  he  says  elsewhere,  "I  made 
myself  servant  unto  all."  "I  am  made  all  things  to  all 
men."  These  are  the  obligations  on  which  I  would 
dwell  more  particularly  at  this  time,  of  which  we  may 
comprehensively  speak  as  tJic  debt  of  the  Christian,  or 
Chnsfs  sewice  regai'ded  as  a  debt. 

Before  considering  our  theme  in  those  higher  and 
more  ennobling  aspects,  which  I  have  just  foreshad- 
owed, it  may  be  well  to  look  at  it  briefly  on  its  lower 
side,  taking  an  estimate  of  our  debts  according  to  the 
quid  pro  quo  rule  of  equivalents  or  compensation. 

I.  I  begin  then,  by  remarking  that  we  do,  in  fact, 
owe  something  to  the  world  in  return  for  what  the 
world  has  done  for  us.  Although  this  view  is  not  the 
highest  that  can  be  taken,  it  is  nevertheless  a  legitimate 
and  useful  view  of  what  is  required  of  us.  It  is  a 
view  which  should  appeal  to  our  sense  of  justice  and 
of  honor,  and  one  which  may  serve  to  show  our  short- 
comings, judging  even  by  this  standard.  It  needs  but 
a  moment's  consideration  to  realize  in  some  measure 
the  facts  of  this  indebtedness,  and  the  greatness  of  it. 
We  do  owe  something — nay,  we  do  owe  much  to  the 
world,  or,  if  you  please,  to  society,  to  humanity,  in 
return  for  what  the  world,  society,  humanity,  has  done 
for  us.  Let  any  one  try  to  imagine  what  he  would  have 
been,  but  for  the  benefits  which  he  has  received  from 
what  others  have  done.  What  would  any  one's  life  be 
but  for  the  contributions  which  the  world  has  made  to 
it?  We  are  heirs  of  the  past,  and  beneficiaries  of  the 
present.  The  house  you  live  in,  the  clothes  you  wear, 
the  food  you  eat,  the  tools  you  work  with,  all  the  fa- 
cilities which  you  enjoy  for  work,  rest,  sleep,  nurture, 


2O0  LLEWELYN    lOAN     EVANS. 

travel,  culture — how  much  of  all  this  do  you  owe  to 
yourself?  All  that  vast  aggregate  of  utility,  comfort 
and  power,  all  that  mighty  instrumentality  of  action 
and  enjoyment  which  we  call  civilization — all  the  cen- 
turies and  all  the  continents  have  made  it,  and  it  is  at 
your  service.  This  marvel  that  we  call  the  Present, 
with  its  conquests  of  force,  with  its  victories  over 
space  and  time — it  is  born  of  the  travail  of  the  ages, 
of  the  rapture  of  countless  triumphs,  of  the  agony  of 
untold  failures — and  it  is  at  your  hand.  Science  has 
searched  out  the  deep  things  of  nature,  has  disentombed 
the  memorials  of  the  everlasting  hills,  has  surprised  the 
secrets  of  the  most  distant  stars,  has  mastered  the  pro- 
cesses of  earth's  laboratory,  and  has  thus  multiplied 
nature  itself  a  hundredfold — and  all  for  you.  Art  has 
stolen  the  witchery  of  sky  and  sea,  has  captured  the 
myriad  moods  of  mountain  and  valley,  sunshine  and 
storm,  and  gathered  them  into  her  enchanted  palace, 
besides  dreams  and  visions  of  her  own,  fairer  than 
aught  seen  on  land  or  sea — all  for  you.  Commerce 
wafts,  for  your  comfort  or  your  need,  treasures  from  the 
rising  and  from  the  setting  sun.  Government  insures 
your  person  and  your  property  against  violence  and 
wrong.  Schools  provide  for  you  opportunities  for  mas- 
tering every  form  of  knowledge,  and  for  reaching  every 
benefit  of  culture.  Books  echo  for  you  the  thunder  of 
battles,  and  the  silent  struggles  of  thought.  The  com- 
plex mass  of  personahty,  of  life  and  character  in  the 
world,  radiates  upon  you  influences  of  unspeakable  im- 
portance from  every  point  at  which  you  touch  it.  Social 
institutions  and  agencies  without  number  leave  a  thou- 
sand traces  of  their  beneficent  activity  across  your 
daily  path.  And  in  speaking  of  all  these  agencies  which 
have  done  so  much  for  us,  we  are  speaking,  of  course, 
of  men  and  women,  in  the  past  and  present,  who  have 


SERMONS.  207 

organized  and  used  these  instrumentalities  for  accomplish- 
ing these  results.  Others  have  sowed — an  innumer- 
able company  of  toilers,  and  ye  are  entered  into  their 
labors.  Surely,  in  contemplating  all  that  has  been  thus 
received,  no  honest,  manly  heart  can  help  feeling  that 
it  rests  under  an  indebtedness,  the  extent  of  which  can 
hardly  be  measured. 

If  then,  we  take  no  higher  point  of  view  than  the 
commercial,  or  the  quid  pro  qiw  theory,  it  would  still 
remain  that  the  best  we  can  render  to  society  is  not  too 
much,  simply  as  a  return  for  what  society  or  the  world 
has  done  for  us.  The  citizen  can  not  do  too  much  for 
the  State  in  repayment  of  all  that  the  State  secures 
for  him.  The  most  liberal  contribution  which  the 
scholar  can  make  to  the  cause  of  education,  will  be  but 
an  inadequate  return  for  the  educational  benefits  which 
he  found  already  provided  for  himself.  The  best  that 
any  one  can  do  in  the  way  of  scientific  discovery,  ar- 
tistic creation,  industrial  or  intellectual  production,  will 
be  none  too  great  a  recompense  for  the  triumphs  which 
genius,  skill  and  patience  have  achieved  in  his  behalf. 
The  best  that  any  one  can  be  will  not  outweigh  his  ob- 
ligations to  the  heroic  lives  and  pure  examples  which 
have  shone  out  of  the  world  upon  him..  The  benefits 
which  the  church,  considered  as  a  social  agency  simjDly, 
has  conferred,  constitute  a  claim  which  a  life  of  service 
would  but  poorly  repay.  The  debt  which  a  man  owes 
to  the  home  that  nurtured  him,  he  never  can  cancel. 
He  who  owes  to  any  influence  a  higher,  better  life,  than 
he  would  otherwise  have  reached — that  man  will  die  a 
debtor. 

2.  But  even  this  view,  broad  and  suggestive  as  it  is, 
does  not  prepare  us  to  estimate  sufficiently  the  Chris- 
tian's debt  to  the  world.  If  we  were  to  stop  with  this  we 
should  be  in  danger  for  one  thing,  of  resting  as  I  said 


208  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

before,  in  a  commercial,  not  to  say  a  mercenary  spirit. 
We  should  be  tempted  to  be  eternally  counting  up  our 
obligations,  striking  the  balance  of  our  debit  and  credit, 
and  life  would  degenerate  into  a  sordid  process  of  wip- 
ing off  old  scores.  The  effect  of  all  this  would  be  un- 
healthy, it  would  be  narrowing  and  improverishing,  it 
would  tend  to  foster  that  selfishness,  which  measures  its 
service  by  its  receipts,  to  chill  that  spontaneous  disin- 
terested magnanimity,  which  loves  to  do  good,  even 
when  nothing  has  been  received,  and  when  nothing  can 
be  returned.  Christianity  summons  us  to  a  larger, 
freer,  nobler  life,  to  a  sublimer  debtorship. 

The  rule  of  equivalents,  moreover,  strictly  construed, 
would  make  us  partial  in  our  service.  It  would  put  us 
on  that  old  Jewish  platform,  or  rather,  as  we  m.ay  call 
it,  that  old  platform  of  pubhcans  and  sinners,  which 
Christ  condemned,  when  he  said,  — "  If  ye  love  them 
which  love  you,  what  reward  have  ye  ?  Do  not  even 
the  publicans  the  same?  If  ye  do  good  to  them  which 
do  good  to  you,  what  thanks  have  ye  ?  for  sinners  also 
do  even  the  same."  If  we  seek  to  benefit  only  those 
who  benefit  us,  how  about  those  who  are  of  no  use  to 
us?  If  I  am  to  live  only  for  those  who  live  for  me, 
v/hat  about  the  rest?  You  say,  perhaps,  let  those  who 
get  some  good  out  of  them  repay  them.  Aye — but  what 
about  the  poor,  worthless  wretches,  who  are  of  no  good 
to  me,  nor  to  anybody  else?  Is  nobody  their  debtor? 
Is  nothing  due  them?  Hear  what  Paul  says:  "I  am 
debtor  both  to  the  Greeks." — Ah  yes:  we  can  all  un- 
derstand that;  the  Greeks.  They  are  the  world's  bene- 
factors, they  have  enriched  the  world  with  a  history, 
the  lessons  of  which  are  surpassed  by  those  of  no  land's 
history.  They  have  given  the  world  its  greatest  epic, 
its  sublimest  tragedy,  its  profoundest  and  its  acutest 
philosophy,    its    most   irresistible  oratory,   its  most  re- 


SERMONS.  209 

markable  political  monuments.  The  Greeks  :  they  have 
produced  the  most  exquisite  sculpture,  the  most  sym- 
metrical architecture,  the  completest  civic  life,  and  the 
most  heroic  type  of  character,  which  the  world  has 
known.  We  are  all  debtors  to  the  Greeks  for  Homer 
and  Pindar,  for  Aeschylus  and  Sophocles,  for  Pericles 
and  Demosthenes,  for  Plato  and  Aristotle,  for  Phidias 
and  Praxiteles,  To  them  we  owe  the  Parthenon,  the 
Apollo,  the  Areopagus,  the  democracy  of  Athens,  the 
oligarchy  of  Sparta,  the  empire  of  Macedonia,  Ly- 
curgus,  Epaminondas,  and  Socrates — Thermopylae  and 
Salamis,  and  Marathon.  Well  mayest  thou  say,  O 
Paul,  that  thou  art  a  debtor  to  the  Greeks — Nay,  but 
hear  him — "I  am  debtor  both  to  the  Greeks  and  to  the 
Barbarians" — Aye — mark  the  word — "and  to  the  Bar- 
barians"— and  by  that  word  Paul  means  all  that  the 
word  means  to  us,  and  more — to  the  Greeks  and  to  all 
the  world  besides — to  the  Scythian  and  the  Parthian — 
to  the  wild  Ishmaelite  of  the  plain,  whose  hand  is 
against  every  man,  and  every  man's  hand  against  him — 
to  the  savage  islander  who  strips  the  wrecked  mariner 
of  his  all, — to  the  superstitious  bushman,  who  crawls 
before  his  fetich, — to  the  brutish  dweller  in  caves,  and 
the  outcast  of  Syrian  Steppes,  who  "embraces  the  rock 
for  want  of  a  shelter," — to  the  lowest  and  most  de- 
graded pariah  of  the  far  East,  spat  upon  by  those  who 
are  ^themselves  degraded:  "I  am  debtor  both  to  the 
Greeks  and  to  the  Barbarians,  both  to  the  wise" — to 
the  lofty  in  intellect,  the  brilliant  in  imagination,  the 
sagacious  in  counsel,  the  accomphshed  in  knovv'ledge, 
—  "and  to  the  unwise" — to  the  dull,  the  brute,  the 
fool,  whom  nobody  cares  for,  whose  life  is  more  worth- 
less than  a  weed, — Paul  is  that  n\2CCi  s  Debtor,  and  every 
man's  debtor,   and   the  world's   debtor,    and    you,    my 


2IO  LLEWEYLN  lOAN  EVANS. 

brother,  if  your  Christianity  is  the  same  as  Paul's,  arc  a 
debtor  to  all  the  world. 

What  is  your  debt?  As  briefly  as  possible,  let  me 
try  to  answer  that  question,  i.  You  owe  to  the  world 
the  best  that  you  can  be.  You  owe  to  it  a  holy.  God- 
like, character.  The  world  has  the  right  to  require  in 
you  the  image  of  God,  for  that  is  what  you  were  meant 
to  be.  And  the  world  has  the  right  to  ask  of  every- 
thing that  it  should  conform  to  the  type  after  which  it 
was  created,  that  it  should  realize  the  character  and 
the  function  which  God's  plan  assigns  to  it.  It  has  the 
right  to  expect  of  the  rose  the  properties  of  a  rose,  and 
not  of  a  thistle ;  to  demand  that  a  diamond  should  be  a 
diamond,  and  not  a  bit  of  common  glass.  You  are  not 
simply  to  exist  in  the  world,  you  are  to  be  the  likeness 
of  the  living  God,  a  power  in  which  God  shall  be  felt, 
a  glory  in  which  God  shall  be  seen,  a  character  in 
which  God  shall  be  glorified.  To  be  that,  my  brother, 
is  to  be  the  best  that  you  can  be.  It  is  to  open  every 
part  of  your  being  to  God — to  be  illuminated,  ener- 
gized, transfigured  by  the  Divine  Indwelling.  The  man 
in  whom  God  thus  dwelleth,  is  an  instrumentality  by 
which  God  works,  a  medium  through  which  He  com- 
municates Himself  to  the  world.  His  life  is  a  Divine 
influence.  His  personality  is  an  Ark  of  the  living  God. 
His  character  is  a  Shekinah.  His  presence  is  a  bene- 
diction. 

2.  You  owe  to  the  world  the  best  of  all  that  you 
]iavc.  By  this  I  mean  the  use,  the  fruit  of  all  that 
you  have.  You  say,  perhaps,  that  you  need  so  much 
of  your  property  to  support  yourself  and  family,  to 
carry  on  your  business,  to  furnish  your  home,  to  make 
it  attractive,  refined  and  ennobling.  So  be  it.  But 
remember  that  in  using  it  for  tJiesc  necessary  ends,  you 
are  to  use  it  with  an  ulterior  viev/  to  the  glory  of  God 


SERMONS.  2  I  I 

and  the  good  of  the  world.  You  need  so  much  to 
support  yourself — very  well,  but  why  should  you  live? 
Is  it  simply  that  there  may  be  one  more  name  for  the 
census?  You  have  your  business  to  carry  on — but 
why?  Is  it  merely  that  there  may  be  one  more  firm 
on  the  street?  Why  should  you  make  your  home 
winning  and  happy?  Is  it  only  that  you  and  your 
household  may  have  a  better  time  in  living  ?  All  that 
your  property  does  for  you,  it  should  through  you,  do 
Jor  the  world.  All  that  your  property  does  for  your 
home,  it  should  through  your  home,  do  for  other 
homes  and  hearts.  The  enlarged  power,  culture,  re- 
finement, happiness,  which  your  means  of  living  pro- 
cure for  you,  are  to  find  their  v/ay  beyond  you  into 
the  world  of  Greeks  and  Barbarians.  They  are  not  to 
be  swallowed  up  in  that  little  circle  of  self,  of  which 
you  are  the  center;  they  are  to  spread  into  that  circle 
of  humanity,  of  which  God  is  the  center.  And  beyond 
what  is  thus  needful  for  your  present  use,  or  future  de- 
pendence, all  should  be  subject  at  all  time  and  imme- 
diately to  God's  drafts  upon  it  for  his  needy,  perishing 
world. 

Paul,  to  be  sure,  was  a  poor  missionary,  and  when 
necessary  made  tents  for  a  living;  but  had  he  been  as 
rich  as  Solomon,  we  may  be  sure  that  holding  out  his 
all  toward  the  world,  he  would  still  have  said:  "I  am 
debtor  both  to  the  Greeks  and  to  the  Barbarians,"  and 
he  would  have  paid  that  debt  too,  like  an  honest 
man. 

3.  You  owe  to  the  world  the  best  of  all  that  you 
knoiv.  You  live  in  a  world  where  there  is  much  to  be 
known,  where  knowledge  crov/ns  a  mian  with  dignity, 
and  his  life  with  power.  The  pursuit  of  knowledge  is 
sweet,  the  possession  of  it  brings  satisfaction  and 
strength.     But  what,  after  all,  is  knowledge  for  ?     Why 


212  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

should  a  man  know?  Simply  to  serve  himself?  That 
is  the  use  the  Devil  makes  of  his  knowledge.  Man 
owes  his  knowledge.  He  should  use  it  for  others. 
The  more  he  knows,  the  more  useful  he  should  become  ; 
and  in  the  best  life,  the  desire  to  do  good  to  others  is 
one  of  the  strongest  incentives  to  know  more.  Let 
the  man  of  the  world  seek  knowledge  simply  as  a 
means  of  power,  of  pleasure,  of  fame ;  the  man  of 
God  will  seek  it  as  a  means  of  getting  more  of  God 
into  himself,  and  of  giving  more  of  God  to  the  world.  _ 

4.  You  owe  the  best  of  all  your  experience.  I  do 
not  mean  that  you  should  trumpet  abroad  every  pass- 
ing feeling,  still  less  that  you  should  proclaim  from 
the  housetop,  those  most  sacred  and  precious  experi- 
ences which  can  and  should  be  known  only  to  God — 
and  yourself.  But  throughout  life's  discipline,  in  every 
teaching  of  Providence,  and  of  its  Spirit,  in  every  feel- 
ing wrought  by  Divine  Truth  in  the  soul,  in  every  ex- 
perience of  God's  grace  in  all  his  various  dealings  with 
you,  there  is  something  which  can  and  which  should  be 
i)i  some  way  communicated,  some  sweet  flavor,  at  least 
some  ripe  fruit  of  the  same,  of  which  others  can  be 
made  to  partake.  It  were  a  crime  to  hoard  it  all  up 
within ;  the  world  should  in  some  way  be  made  the 
richer  for  it.  Hear  the  pious  Psalmist:  "I  have  not 
hid  thy  righteousness  within  my  heart.  I  have  de- 
clared thy  faithfulness  and  thy  salvation.  I  have  not 
concealed  thy  loving  kindness,  and  thy  truth  from  the 
great  congregation." 

5.  You  owe  to  the  world  the  best  of  all  you  can  do. 
The  rule  is  not — the  best  for  yourself,  and  what  is  left' 
over  for  the  world.  No,  no !  for  yourself,  once  more, 
only  as  means  to  an  end,  only  that  others  may  be 
reached  and  blessed.  The  law  of  action,  my  brother, 
is  service.     Have    you    ever   thought    that   there  is   a 


SERMONS.  213 

sense  in  which  this  is  true,  even  of  God  ?  God's  ac- 
tivity is  a  ministry.  "The  Son  of  Man  came  not  to 
be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,"  and  in  His  Hfe, 
the  Hfe  of  God  reveals  itself  as  one  of  service.  ' '  Who- 
soever will  be  chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your  serv- 
ant," and  the  God  who  is  the  Sovereign  of  all,  He  is 
the  Servant  of  all — yes — and  it  is  with  reverence  I 
would  say  it — the  Great  God  to  whom  we  owe  every- 
thing. He  waits  upon  His  universe,  He  ministers  to 
all  His  creatures,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  as 
though  He  were  their  Debtor!  What  a  lesson,  my 
brother,  for  you  and  for  me !  Shall  I,  a  poor,  misera- 
ble beggar,  a  pensioner  on  God's  bounty,  live  to  my- 
self— live  as  though  I  owed  nothing  ? 

6.  To  sum  up  all  in  regard  to  the  substance  of  our 
debt — we  owe  to  the  world  Love.  "Owe  no  man 
anything  but  to  love  one  another,"  says  Paul  in  an- 
other place,  and  those  words  are  a  commentary  on 
these.  In  other  words,  owe  no  man  anything,  except 
to  owe  every  man  everything.  Let  this  be  your  only 
debt,  to  owe  your  whole  self  to  the  whole  world.  For 
to  owe  love  is  to  owe  all.  A  true  Christian  life  is  a 
perpetual  assignment.  "God  is  Love."  If  man  be 
God's  image,  it  should  be  equally  true  to  say:  ''Man 
is  love."  God  is  the  Infinite  Fountain  of  all  good, 
ever  sending  forth  streams  of  blessing,  and  the  life 
which  He  gives  is  a  life  which  springs  up  not  only  to 
life  everlasting  for  the  possessor,  but  to  good  immortal 
for  others.  Where  the  love  of  God  is  shed  abroad  in 
the  heart,  it  prompts  man  to  will  and  to  do  for  others 
what  God  is  willing  and  doing  for  them.  And  here  we 
strike  upon  the  very  heart  of  our  subject.  Here  we 
come  upon  the  principle  Vv'hich  not  only  explains  Paul's 
language,  but  which  is  the  keynote  of  Christianity,  the 
very  heart  of  Christ's  life  and  work. 


214  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

For  mark  it,  my  brother,  this  debt  of  yours  to  the 
world  is  not  a  sweet  Httle  touch  of  sentiment,  not  a 
pretty  figure  of  speech  belonging  to  the  poetry  of 
charity,  romance,  or  benevolence,  not  even  the  more 
earnest  phrase  of  a  genuine  enthusiasm  of  humanity,  of 
a  certain  sort.  Be  not  misled  by  the  mere  sound  of 
words.  "The  enthusiasm  of  humanity,"  "  the  service 
of  mankind,"  "the  love  of  the  race,"  yes,  fine  phrases, 
all  of  them,  no  doubt ;  and  you  have  known  something 
perhaps  of  a  dilettante  Gospel  of  which  they  are  the 
Alpha  and  Omega.  It  has  much  to  say,  and  it  says 
it  beautifully  and  eloquently,  of  the  Universal  Father- 
hood of  God,  of  the  universal  brotherhood  of  man,  the 
sublimity  of  universal  benevolence,  the  grandeur  of 
self-sacrifice,  the  beauty  of  the  ministry  of  love.  Its 
saint,  Abou  Ben  Adhem,  if  you  please ;  its  creed, 
that  worthy's  prayer :  Write  me  as  one  that  loves  my 
brother  man. 

Sweet  and  modest  enough,  no  doubt.  But  ah !  sirs, 
what  is  it  to  love  your  brother  man  ?  to  provide  food 
for  his  hunger  and  clothing  for  his  nakedness?  to  teach 
him  the  alphabet  and  a  trade  ?  to  give  him  a  cottage, 
and  flowers,  and  chromos,  and  books,  and  periodic  dis- 
sertations on  the  Beautiful,  and  the  Good,  and  the  True  ? 
Well  enough,  doubtless,  so  far  as  it  goes,  but  is  that 
all?  Ah,  ye  friends  of  humanity,  be  assured  that  the 
only  definition  of  your  own  creed  which  is  worth  any- 
thing, is  that  which  is  to  be  learned  from  the  cross  of 
Jesus  Christ.  "Love  ye  one  another  as  I  have  loved 
you,"  "  Bear  ye  one  another's  burdens,  and  so  fulfill 
the  law  of  Christ."  The  love  which  does  not  see  in 
man  everywhere  the  lost  one  whom  Christ  has  come 
to  save,  which  does  not  realize  the  exceeding  sinfulness 
of  that  sin  which  cost  the  agony  of  Gethsemane  and 
Calvary,    the   love   in   which    regeneration  is  a  fiction, 


SERMONS.  2  I  5 

atonement  a  superstition,  the  wrath  of  God  a  myth, 
the  love  which  does  not  love  God,  the  honor  of  God, 
the  justice  of  God,  the  character  of  God,  the  love 
which  does  not  seek  to  save  man  as  God  seeks  to  save 
him,  that  love,  be  assured,  is  blind  and  helpless. 
Genial  and  amiable  it  may  be,  but  superficial  and 
powerless  nevertheless.  Go  to  the  cross,  and  there  f 
learn  the  world's  want,  learn  the  malignity  of  the  curse 
from  which  it  is  to  be  delivered,  the  depth  of  degrada- 
tion from  which  it  is  to  be  rescued.  "God,  who  is 
rich  in  mercy,  for  his  great  love  wherewith  he  loved 
us,  even  when  we  were  dead  in  sins,  hath  quickened 
us  together  with  Christ."  "When  we  were  enemies, 
Ave  were  reconciled  to  God  by  the  death  of  his  Son." 
Go  to  the  cross,  and  there  learn  humanity's  worth,  in  / 
the  price  paid  for  its  redemption.  "Ye  were  not 
redeemed  with  corruptible  things,  as  silver  and  gold, 
but  with  the  precious  blood  of  Christ."  Go  to  the 
cross  and  there  learn  v/hat  it  is  to  love  the  world  in 
the  sacrifice  which  God  made  for  its  salvation.  "God 
so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten 
Son  ''  "He  that  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered 
him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not  with  him  also 
freely  give  us  all  things?"  Go  to  the  cross  and  there 
learn  the  infinite  obligation  which  is  laid  upon  you,  learn  ' 
what  you  owe  to  H-t\  who  loved  you,  and  gave  him- 
self for  you,  learn  fo  be  crucified  with  Him  who  was 
crucified  for  you,  to  crucify  self,  to  crucify  sin,  to  die 
with  Him  to  the  world,  thai'/ou  may  live  with  Him  to 
God.  Go  to  the  cross  and  there  learn  Christ's  right  to 
the  world.  For  in  dying  for  it,  Christ  has  made  the  ' 
world  His  own.  The  Father  has  rewarded  His  humilia- 
tion by  crowning  Him  Lord  of  all,  by  giving  Him  the 
nations  for  an  inheritance,  and  the  uttermost  parts  of 
the  earth  for  a  possession.      Here,   and  here  only  can 


2l6  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

you  learn  what  your  debt  is.  You  owe  Christ  to  the 
world.  You  owe  the  world  to  Christ.  You  owe  your- 
self to  Christ  and  to  the  Avorld.     That  is  your  debt. 

The  world  nee'ds  Christ,  it  needs  His  life,  it  needs 
His  truth,  it  needs  His  spirit,  it  needs  His  cross,  and 
you  are  to  give  Christ  to  the  world,  in  your  life,  in 
your  character,  in  your  words,  in  your  service. 

Christ  wants  the  world.  He  wants  it  redeemed, 
purified,  perfected.  He  wants  it  as  His  own.  His  wit- 
ness, His  image,  as  the  harvest  of  His  tears  and  blood, 
as  the  crown  of  His  rejoicing,  and  to  the  utmost  of 
your  ability  you  are  to  give  the  world  to  Christ,  to 
save  it  for  Him. 

Christ  wants  you — your  affections,  your  powers,  your 
property,  your  plans,  your  all  for  Himself — wants  you 
because  He  loves  you,  and  because  out  of  Him  you  can 
do  nothing.  And  the  world  wants  you.  It  wants  Christ 
in  you  ;  -it  wants  the  best  you  can  be,  and  that  is  Christ 
formed  in  you  ;  the  best  you  can  do,  and  that  is  Christ 
working  mightily  in  you ;  the  best  that  you  know  and 
feel  and  have — and  what  is  all  this  but  Christ  as  the 
center  of  your  being,  the  motive  power  of  your  life,  the 
lord  of  your  service  ?  Christ  for  the  world— the  world 
for  Christ — and  yourself  for  the  world  and  for  Christ. 
And  when  once  you  have  realized  Christ's  claims  on 
yourself  and  on  the  world,  all  the  lest  will  follow.  To 
seek  to  put  Christ  in  possessic.i  of  His  own — that  is  to 
be  the  world's  debtor.  The  love  of  Christ — in  that  you 
have  the  true  love  of  hi'  ..^nity.  He  that  truly  loves 
Christ  will  love  with,  something  of  Christ's  love  those 
for  v/hom  He  died.  This  love  is  the  Christian's  debt, 
and  here  w<^  have : 

That  which  explains  the  peculiarities  of  this  debt, 
(l)  It  explains  its  universality.  God  loves  the  world. 
Chri.Git   died  for  all,   and    the    Christian,  like    Paul,  is  a 


r^ 


SERMONS.  21/ 

debtor  to  all  mankind.  He  loves,  with  a  love  born  of 
God's  love,  all  whom  God  loves.  He  yearns  for  the  sal- 
vation of  ail  for  whom  Christ  died,  with  a  longing 
which  has  come  into  his  heart  out  of  the  Savior's  heart. 
It  is  a  love  —  and  thus  it  is  a  debt  —  broad  as  the 
world  and  deep  as  every  want  and  woe  of  a  lost  hu- 
manity. It  reaches  wherever  the  cross  reaches.  (2) 
It  explains  again  its  freeness  and  disinterestedness. 
This  debt  knows  no  constraint  save  that  of  Love  Di- 
vine. "The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us."  There 
is  here  no  selfish  counting  of  the  cost.  You  do  not 
dole  out  your  service.  You  do  not  weigh  out  your  love 
in  scruples  and  grains.  You  are  not  afraid  of  going  too 
far,  of  paying  too  much.  No!  "  freely  ye  have  re- 
ceived, freely  give,"  that  is  the  motto.  You  have  re- 
ceived infinitely ;  you  would,  if  it  were  in  your  power 
repay  infinitely,  you  can  never  do  enough.  Your  lan- 
guage is — 

"  Were  the  whole  realm  of  nature  mine, 
That  were  a  present  far  too  small ; 
Love  so  amazing,  so  divine, 
Demands  my  soul,  my  life,  my  all." 

(3)  For  this  same  reason  it  is  a  debt  which  can  not 
be  exhausted.  Love's  debt  is  never  discharged.  The 
more  it  pays,  the  more  it  owes.  Most  of  all  is  this 
true  of  Christian  love.  As  the  love  grows,  the  debt 
^rows.  The  more  it  is  exercised,  the  stronger  does  the 
Uove  become,  and  the  more  irresistible  the  impulse  by 
ivhich  it  is  swayed.  The  more  spiritual  and  Christhke 
>.t  grows,  the  more  deeply  does  it  realize  the  world's 
necessities,  and  the  more  readily  does  it  respond  to  the 
claims  of  Christ  and  the  world  upon  it.  In  a  word,  the 
more  it  owes  the  more  it  gives,  and  the  more  it  gives, 
the  greater  is  the  debt ;  and  eternity  will  only  add  to 
the  sweet   despair  of  ever    being  able  to  satisfy  love's 


2l8  LLEWELYN  lOAN    EVANS. 

blest  longing  to  give  itself  av/ay,  But  why  may  not 
the  love  itself  fade  away  and  perish  ?  Ah,  my  brother, 
it  is  because  it  is  exercised  in  and  through  and  for 
Christ,  A  love  of  humanity  in  the  abstract,  certainly 
might  perish.  A  mere  sentimental  benevolence  might 
and  would  wane  away.  A  living  love  must  have  a  Per- 
sonal Inspiration,  and  that  you  will  find  only  in  Christ. 
Apart  from  Him  the  love  of  humanity  is  as  a  branch 
that  is  cast  away  and  withers.  But  union  with  Christ 
furnishes  it  with  an  unfailing  inspiration.  His  personal 
presence  acts  upon  it  with  quickening  and  strengthen- 
ing power.  While  He  is  near,  while  He  dwells  within, 
the  heart  can  not  cease  to  love,  to  yearn  for  the  lost, 
to  go  forth  in  sympathy  and  to  lavish  itself  on  want 
and  woe.  When  He  is  within,  then  while  there  is  good 
to  be  done,  while  there  is  want  to  be  relieved,  while 
there  is  a  sin  to  save  from,  and  a  soul  to  be  saved,  nay, 
while  there  is  anyone  or  anything  to  love  for  Christ's  sake, 
and  a  channel  for  love  to  flow  in — that  love  will  be  a 
blessed  reality.  The  spirit  v/hich  He  imparts  is  no  spas- 
modic passion,  no  effervescing  and  transient  sentiment. 
It  is  unwasting,  unwearying  as  Himself.  (4)  And  here 
you  see  finally,  why  this  debt  of  love  and  service,  as 
it  is  never  to  be  exhausted,  as  it  is  one  which  is  ever 
to  grow,  so  it  is  one  of  which  the  Christian  is  never  to 
be  ashamed.  Ashamed  of  it !  Nay,  he  glories  in  it. 
It  is  his  chief  honor.  It  was  with  a  noble  and  holy 
exultation  that  Paul  exclaimed,  "  I  am  debtor  both  to 
the  Greeks  and  to  the  Barbarians,  both  to  the  wise  and 
to  the  unwise."  There  are  debts  which  bring  humilia- 
tion and  shame.  They  crush  the  spirit.  They  take 
away  all  manliness.  They  are  a  blight  on  the  life.  But 
the  debt  of  which  the  Christian  boasts  expands  and  ex- 
alts the  soul.  It  is  an  inspiration.  It  stimulates  every 
power  and  purpose.     It  ennobles    the   life,  gives  man 


SERMONS, 


219 


the  consciousness  of  an  end  in  living  worthy  of  the 
highest  capabilities  and  attainments  of  manhood.  This 
sense  of  a  boundless  and  an  endless  obligation  becomes 
the  power  of  a  boundless  and  an  endless  life.  This  life  for 
Christ  and  for  His  world  is  a  life  of  freedom,  of  joy,  of 
growth  ;  yes,  of  growth  into  the  life  of  God,  into  the 
Heart  of  Christ,  into  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

And  now,  brethren  of  the  Seminary,  in  discharging 
the  duty  laid  on  me,  of  thus  addressing  you  on  this 
first  Sabbath  of  a  new  Seminary  year,  I  hold  up  before 
you  this  Debt,  and  urge  you  one  and  all  to  accept  it 
in  all  its  greatness,  in  all  that  it  costs,  in  all  that  it 
offers,  and  to  glory  in  it.  I  know  of  no  better  prepara- 
tion for  all  of  us  in  view  of  the  work  of  the  coming: 
year,  than  to  be  fully  imbued  with  the  spirit  in  which 
the  great  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles  addressed  himself  to 
the  preparation  of  the  master-piece  of  his  life.  It  was 
as  the  world's  debtor  that  he  wrote  this  wonderful 
Epistle  to  the  Romans,  in  which  he  reaches  and  unfolds 
the  heights  and  depths  of  the  Gospel.  As  the  world's 
debtors  I  would  that  we  might  engage  this  year  in  our 
work,  whether  it  be  teaching,  or  learning  the  heights 
and  depths  of  that  same  Gospel.  We  can  surely  be 
actuated  by  no  higher  motive  than  the  feeling  which  is 
prompted  by  the  recognition  of  that  glorious,  immeas- 
urable, inexhaustible,  inspiring  obligation  which  we  owe 
to  Christ  and  His  world. 

Do  you  ask  yourself — why  are  you  here?  May  I 
not  answer  in  a  word  by  saying — it  is  to  learn,  as  here 
you  m.ay  be  helped  in  learning,  how  best  you  may 
pay  your  debt  to  the  world ;  and  be  assured  that 
the  more  you  realize  its  magnitude,  its  sacredness,  its 
blessedness,  the  more  solicitous  you  will  be  to  make 
yourself  worthy  of  it.  Oh,  my  brother!  it  is  an  honor 
to  owe  this  debt,  it  is  a  privilege  with  which  earth  has 


220  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

nothing  to  compare,  to  devote  ourselves  to  the  lifelong 
payment  of  it,  in  its  highest  and  purest  form,  but  it  is 
an  honor  which  should  make  us  tremble,  it  is  a  priv- 
ilege of  which  to  be  unworthy  were  the  saddest  of  all 
failures.  Remember,  then,  to  be  worthy  of  it,  you 
can  not  be  too  holy.  You  can  not  be  too  earnest.  You 
can  not  be  too  diligent.  You  can  not  prepare  yourself 
too  thoroughly  for  its  demands  upon  you.  You  can 
not  afford  to  slight  any  opportunity,  nor  to  decline  any 
instrumentality  by  which  you  may  become  thoroughly 
furnished  to  discharge  the  obligation  which  God  lays 
upon  you.  There  is  no  Key  of  Knoweldge,  there  is  no 
element  of  power,  there  is  no  perfection  of  mind,  or 
of  heart,  which  you  should  not  be  anxious  to  possess. 
You  can  not  know  too  much  of  that  Divine  Truth 
which  you  hope  to  impart  to  others  in  all  its  sources, 
in  all  its  relations,  in  all  its  developments,  in  all  its 
modes  and  application !  You  can  not  have  too  rich 
and  deep  an  experience  of  it  in  your  own  heart.  You 
can  not  be  too  bright  and  eloquent  an  illustration  of  it 
in  your  own  life.  All  that  this  Seminary  can  do  for 
you,  all  that  your  religious  associations  and  activities 
can  do  for  you,  all  that  your  personal  culture  of  mind 
and  heart  can  do  for  you, — let  me  say  more,  all  that 
God  by  His  word  can  do  for  you,  all  that  Christ  by 
His  Spirit  can  do  for  you,  while  here — will  be  i>one  too 
much  to  qualify  you  to  pay  what  you  owe  to  Christ 
and  His  world.  If  you  owe  yourself,  then  be  all  that 
you  can  be.  If  you  owe  the  Gospel,  then  let  the  Go.s- 
pel  be  a  light  filling  your  mind,  a  power  filling  your 
heart.  Christ  claims  you  for  His  world  at  your  best. 
He  claims  the  most  and  the  best  that  you  can  be,  the 
most  and  the  best  that  you  can  acquire,  the  most  and 
the  best  that  you  can  do.  May  God  so  assist  you  in 
fitting  yourself  for  this  service,  that  however  short  you 
come  at  last  of  paying  all  you  owe,  it  may  at  least  be 
said  of  you,    "He  hath  done  vdiat  he  could." 


X. 

ENDURANCE. 

Proverbs  24:  10.     "If  thou  faint  in  the  day  of  adversity,  thy  strength  is  small." 

This  proverb  breathes  throughout  the  spirit  of  an- 
tiquity. This  shows  itself  not  so  much  in  the  spirit  of 
the  proverb  as  in  its  form.  The  virtue  of  fortitude  is 
not  distinctively  antique,  although  greater  prominence 
was  given  to  it  in  ancient  than  in  modern  morality. 
The  reason  for  this  I  apprehend  to  be  two-fold. 
First,  the  inferior  development  of  the  intellectual  pow- 
ers and  resources  of  humanity.  The  increase  of  knowl- 
edge, the  progress  which  has  been  made  in  science  and 
art,  the  multiplication  of  activities,  professions  and 
pursuits,  in  which  skill,  cunning,  foresight,  calculating 
combination,  adaptation,  invention,  and  other  intellectual 
powers  might  be  exercised  and  embodied,  has  opened 
new  avenues  of  distinction,  and  presents  new  objects, 
which  men  may  aspire  after.  Before  this  intellectual 
development  took  place,  men  sought  to  be  respected 
rather  for  the  display  of  qualities  which  are  inherent 
in  man's  constitution,  and  which  require  only  a  strong 
will  and  persistent  application  to  bring  out.  The  ten- 
dency of  modern  civilization  is  perhaps  to  the  other 
extreme,  to  place  less  value  on  moral  qualities,  and 
more  on  intellectual  than  they  deserve.  Another  reason 
for  the  greater  prominence  formerly  assigned  to  fortitude 

(221) 


222  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

is  to  be  found  in  the  narrower  development  of  the  moral 
activities  themselves.  The  moral  life  of  men  was  not 
altogether  so  broad  of  old.  The  social  obligations  were 
not  so  universally  felt.  The  claims  of  humanity  were 
not  so  clearly  recognized.  Men  were  more  isolated  than 
now.  The  virtues  held  in  highest  repute  v/ere  those  of 
man  as  an  individual,  standing  alone,  rather  than  those 
of  man  as  a  member  of  the  body  social,  bound  up  with 
others.  The  spread  of  Christianity  has  brought  into 
clearer  light  our  duties  to  others,  and  the  claims  of  a 
common  brotherhood.  It  has  stimulated  the  sympa- 
thies, the  outreaching  affections,  the  charities,  the 
beneficent  activities  of  men.  Although  Christianity 
makes  no  change  in  a  man's  duties  to  himself,  but  rather 
confirms  them,  although  the  independent  or  individual 
virtues,  those  which  belong  to  man  as  an  independent 
agent,  are  the  same  as  before,  the  greater  prominence 
which  it  gives  to  the  active,  diffusive,  communicative 
powers  of  morality,  have  perhaps  rendered  less  salient 
its  passive,  self-supporting,  and  defensive  powers. 

God  educates  the  individual  by  bringing  first  into 
exercise  the  powers  which  are  necessary  to  maintain  an 
independent  existence  and  growth,  the  powers  of  self- 
preservation,  self-protection,  self-development.  Then 
the  social  instincts  are  brought  into  exercise,  those 
which  are  necessary  to  the  existence  and  wellbeing  of 
society. 

The  race  is  educated  in  the  same  way.  The  moral  prin- 
ciples first  impressed  on  men  have  a  more  immediate 
bearing  on  the  individual.  As  the  race  makes  progress 
in  these,  other  principles  are  urged  with  greater  distinct- 
ness, principles  of  a  wider  application,  which  without 
displacing  those  first  engrafted,  tend  to  give  greater 
breadth  as  well  as  depth  to  the  life.  Observe,  I  do  not 
affirm  that  there  is  any  morality  antecedent  to  benevo- 


SERMONS.  223 

lence.  There  can  be  no  virtue  without  love  ;  love  to  God, 
love  to  man.  But  although  it  is  the  nature  of  this  love 
to  give,  to  impart,  to  lavish  itself  on  others,  it  is  not 
inconsistent  with  the  highest  and  most  enlightened  re- 
gard for  the  interests  of  the  individual.  It  does  not 
disparage  the  qualities  v/hich  give  grandeur,  nobility, 
strength  to  man  as  a  unit.  It  might  be  easily  shown 
that  as  there  can  be  no  true  greatness  without  love,  nei- 
ther can  there  be  love  of  the  highest  order  without  a  dis- 
tinct consciousness  of  the  elements  of  individual  greatness. 
We  see  these  principles  illustrated  in  the  education 
of  the  Jewish  nation,  which  is  a  type  of  that  of  the 
world.  God  had  from  the  first  proclaimed  love  to  be 
the  great  law  of  his  Kingdom.  At  the  same  time  he 
circumscribed  the  nation  within  fixed  bounds,  which 
separated  it  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  He  impressed 
upon  it  a  strong  instinct  of  national  self-preservation.  He 
permitted  the  growth  of  tribal  sympathies  and  local  at- 
tachments. And  above  all  he  encouraged  the  cultiva-' 
tion  of  those  moral  excellencies,  those  personal  attributes 
which  clothe  the  possessor  with  a  celestial  nobility, 
making  him  an  object  of  admiring  contemplation  and  of 
conscious  imitation.  Hence  the  significance  which  at- 
taches to  the  histories  of  individual  men  among  the 
Jews,  as  c.  g.  Abraham,  Isaac,  Jacob,  Moses,  David, 
Daniel.  Hence  also,  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
which,  whoever  m.ay  have  been  its  author,  was  con- 
ceived in  a  genuine  Hebrew  spirit,  we  see  the  wonder- 
ful and  apt  force  of  the  Eleventh  Chapter,  where  the 
examples  of  departed  Jewish  worthies  are  chanted  in  a 
most  magnificent  pean.  In  every  one  of  those  exam- 
ples you  will  observe  that  the  quality  recommended  is 
individual  strength,  self-contained  power,  fortitude,  un- 
bending and  unbreakable  firmness  of  will  in  bearing, 
enduring,   and  doing. 


224  LLEWELYN   lOAN  EVANS. 

And  as  God  has  never  intended  this  virtue  to  be 
superseded  by  Christianity,  which  sets  aside  nothing 
that  is  noble,  but  confirms  and  energizes  it  rather,  it 
may  not  be  amiss  for  us  to  look  at  it  a  little,  and  that, 
if  possible,  in  the  old  Hebrew  spirit,  enlightened  how- 
ever, let  us  pray  that  it  may  be,  and  enlarged  by  the 
spirit  of  Christianity. 

"If  thou  faint  in  the  day  of  adversity,  thy  strength 
is  small."  The  truth  here  affirmed  may  be  thus  para- 
phrased :  If  a  man  is  overpowered  by  calamity,  if  he  is 
overmastered,  made  useless,  if  his  manhood  be  laid 
prostrate  by  misfortune,  it  is  a  sign  of  weakness. 

I.  It  is  not  necessarily  any  evidence  of  a  weak,  de- 
fective character,  that  a  man  is  the  victim  of  misfor- 
tune. Undoubtedly  there  are  calamities  which  are  a 
disgrace  to  him  on  whom  they  fall.  Every  calamity 
which  is  the  natural  result  of  presumption,  which  is  the 
inevitable  recoil  of  overbearing  pride,  which  is  the 
bitter  fruit  of  dishonesty,  or  treachery,  which  is  the  fall- 
ing asunder  of  inward  rottenness,  which  is  the  accumu- 
lated and  just  retribution  of  baseness,  hypocrisy,  cruelty, 
selfishness,  is  a  brand  of  shame  on  him  who  bears  it. 

But  all  calamities  are  not  the  direct  penalty  of  indi- 
vidual transgression.  We  are  so  bound  up,  one  with 
another,  our  interests  are  so  intermingled,  that  one  is 
seldom  ruined  without  involving  others  with  himself 
The  sufferings  and  trials  which  the  guilty  bring  down 
on  their  own  heads,  must  often  overwhelm  the  inno- 
cent too, 

God  has  organized  humanity  in  circles  of  wider  or 
narrower  extent.  One  of  these  circles  circumscribes  the 
nation.  Another  includes  the  family.  Others  embrace 
the  professional,  the  social,  the  political,  the  ecclesiast- 
ical communities  into  which  society  is  divided.  What- 
ever   affects    any    one    of   these    circles,    affects  most, 


SERMONS.  225 

perhaps  all  who  belong  to  it.  Blessings  are  diffused, 
curses  are  spread,  through  the  same  law.  Men  are  tried 
in  their  social  feelings,  in  their  natural  affections,  in  the 
hopes  and  desires  which  they  cherish  as  citizens  of  a 
nation,  and  as  members  of  a  civil  or  religious  brother- 
hood. 

To  some  extent,  indeed,  individuals  are  responsible 
for  those  general  disasters  which  come  on  nations  and 
communities,  on  account  of  national  crimes  or  social 
sins.  All  who  are  directly  implicated  in  them,  or  sustain 
them,  must  be  held  legally  accountable.  God  does 
thus  hold  them.  And  when  the  responsibility  and  guilt 
are  thus  distributed,  they  are  just  as  real,  and  the  pun- 
ishment which  overtakes  them  is  just  as  disgraceful  to 
each  sufferer  as  though  he  alone  were  guilty,  and  he 
alone  suffered.  But  where  the  calamity  is  part  of  a 
general  disciplinary  system,  as  in  the  case  of  famine, 
plague,  war,  or  any  general  misfortune  brought  on  by 
the  guilt  of  some,  or  of  many  perhaps,  but  not  all  of 
the  sufferers,  it  cannot  be  regarded  as  a  reproach  to  all 
alike. 

2.  Aeain,  it  is  no  evidence  of  weakness  when  men 
show  that  they  feel,  and  that  keenly,  their  misfortunes. 

Pain  is  a  natural  appointment,  for  the  most  part  in- 
voluntary and  unavoidable.  It  depends  on  the  nature 
and  function  of  the  sensibilities  with  which  we  are  en- 
dowed, whether  physical  or  spiritual.  Moreover,  the 
measure  and  quality  of  the  pain  endured  is  an  index  to 
the  rank  and  excellence  of  the  being  by  whom  it  is  en- 
dured. As  we  ascend  in  the  scale  of  existence,  the 
sensibilities  become  finer  and  more  acute.  Man  has 
susceptibilities  to  pain  which  no  inferior  order  of  crea- 
tures can  have,  and  which  are  evidences  of  higher 
capacity,  both  of  attainment  and  enjoyment. 

Among  men,  again,  there   is  almost  every  grade  of 


226  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

susceptibility.  Some  are  comparatively  obtuse,  their 
sensibilities  are  blunt,  sheathed  as  it  were  in  hard  armor. 
Others  are  highly  sensitive,  they  have  the  most  deli- 
cate and  exquisite  susceptibility  to  pain.  There  is  no 
reason  why  they  should  restrain  all  exhibition  of  these, 
more  than  of  any  other  sensibilities.  There  is  nothing 
more  improper  or  unmanly  in  letting  the  world  know 
how  greatly  we  suffer,  than  in  letting  it  know  how 
greatly  we  rejoice.  It  may  be  unmanly  to  be  over- 
mastered by  grief,  but  it  is  no  less  unmanly  to  be 
overmastered  by  joy.  To  be  Jiwiianncd  by  anything  is 
unworthy  of  a  man.  For  if  to  him  has  been  given  the 
power  of  more  exquisite  feeling,  to  him  has  also  been 
given  the  power  of  a  more  rigid  self-control.  By  a 
beautiful  law  of  compensation,  those  natures  which  are 
most  delicately  sensitive,  have  in  general  the  greatest 
power  of  persistence,  of  patient,  calm  endurance. 
Woman,  whose  sensibilities  are  constitutionally  so 
much  more  acute,  not  seldom  displays  a  silent,  uncom- 
plaining fortitude,  which  astonishes  the  v/orld. 

This  fortitude  w'hich  accompanies  deep  sensibility,  is 
a  different  thing  from  that  nerve,  that  nonchalance,  that 
"cold  blood,"  [sang  froid)  as  the  French  call  it,  with 
which  men  of  an  iron  nature  look  on  danger  or  pain. 
There  is  a  physical  imperturbability,  a  stoicism  of  the 
nerves,  which  enables  some  to  bear  without  wincing, 
what  would  make  others  faint  outright.  One  can  look 
on  firmly,  and  converse  calmly,  while  his  arm  is  sawed 
off;  another  will  barely  survive  the  operation  even  with 
chloroform  or  ether  to  aid  him.  Yet  the  latter  may  be 
every  whit  as  brave  as  the  other.  It  is  a  difference  of 
organization,  a  difference  between  fine  and  coarse.  But 
let  the  pain  be  of  that  subtle,  mysterious  character 
which  comes  on  quietly,  but  irresistibly,  as  a  shadow 
which  spreads  like  poison,   working    more    and    more 


SERMONS.  227 

the  bitterness  of  death,  and  the  finer  organization 
will  probably  display  greater  power  of  resistance  and 
endurance  than  the  coarser.  One  man  will  bear  an 
affliction  that  smites  like  the  blow  of  a  sledgehammer, 
and  yet  break  his  heart  under  the  dull  monotony  of  a 
pain  which  oppresses  him  like  the  gloom  of  a  dungeon. 
Another  will  become  as  one  that  is  dead  from  the  sharp 
agony  of  a  pain  that  cuts  like  a  lancet  into  the  flesh, 
who  will  bear  with  the  fortitude  of  a  Prometheus,  the 
slow  torture  of  a  sorrow,  gnawing  like  a  vulture  at 
his  heart. 

But  to  endure  pain  with  patience  and  fortitude  is  one 
thing;  to  try  to  seem  perfectly  indifferent  to  it,  or 
utterly  unaffected  by  it,  is  another.  The  former  is  a 
virtue  ;  the  latter  folly.  Here  is  where  the  old  stoic 
philosophers  erred,  who  otherwise  said  many  wise 
things,  and  did  many  noble  things,  and  whose  phi- 
losophy was  far  superior  to  many  of  the  shallow,  butter- 
fly speculations  of  their  day.  But  they  did  not  rightly 
apprehend,  as  it  was  impossible  for  them,  perhaps, 
rightly  to  apprehend,  without  Divine  Revelation,  the 
sacred  significance  of  sorrow.  They  overlooked  the 
holy  ministry  of  pain  in  chastening  men;  not  in  break- 
ing down  their  spirits,  but  in  humbling  them.  No  man 
is  the  same  while  he  suffers,  or  after  that  he  has  suf- 
fered, that  he  was  before,  and  it  is  folly  to  pretend  it. 
I  do  not  say  that  a  man  ought  to  parade  his  sorrows 
before  the  world,  to  proclaim  his  grief  in  public  places, 
to  lay  bare  his  innermost  heart  to  the  careless  gaze  of 
the  multitude.  There  is  in  every  deep  sorrow  much 
that  can  not  be  told,  which  can  not  be  brought  to  the 
surface,  which  is  too  sacred  for  any  eye  but  that  of 
God.  There  is  a  line  in  the  depths  of  suffering  below 
which  Divine  Sympathy  can  alone  descend.  There  is 
not  a  depth  to  which  that  can  not  reach.      It  is  not  a  deep 


228  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

nature  that  forgets  what  is  due  to  the  sacrcdncss  of  sor- 
row; but  neither  is  it  a  Avcak  nature  that  remembers 
what  is  due  to  the  power  of  sorrow. 

3.  Again:  it  is  not  a  sign  of  weakness,  if,  when  a  man 
is  overtaken  by  calamity,  he  pauses  for  a  time  to  con- 
sider its  nature,  its  cause,  its  probable  consequences  and 
his  own  duty.  There  are  some  who  regard  it  as  an  indi- 
cation of  strength,  not  to  be  impeded  or  delayed  in  their 
course  by  any  disaster,  but  to  go  on  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, with  the  same  urgency  and  pertinacity  as  before. 
They  are  like  a  wild  beast  which,  when  it  is  hindered  in 
its  course,  dashes  against  the  obstruction,  butting  ob- 
stinately against  it,  without  pausing  to  consider  whether 
it  can  be  beaten  down  by  opposition,  or  whether  the 
path  which  it  is  pursuing  is  the  safest  to  be  taken. 
Obstacles  and  reverses  may  produce  in  a  man  one  of 
several  results.  They  may  either  arouse  a  spirit  of 
stubborn  doggedness,  which,  right  or  v/rong,  will  not  be 
turned  aside,  which  will  plunge  madly  and  blindly  on- 
ward from  one  disaster  to  another,  or  fume  or  chafe 
itself  to  death  against  invincible  difficulties,  which  is 
the  most  insane  result  of  all.  Or  they  may  generate 
despair,  and  impel  a  man  to  throw  up  everything,  and 
to  cry  out  that  all  is  lost,  without  making  any  effort  to 
rally  against  misfortune,  which  is  the  weakest  result  of 
all.  Or  they  may  produce  irresolution,  vacillation ; 
they  may  drive  the  man  to  be  utterly  at  a  loss  what 
to  do  next,  which  is  also  a  sign  of  imbecility.  Or 
they  may  lead  him  to  pause,  to  bethink  himself,  to 
take  his  bearings  and  soundings,  and  to  find  out  where 
he  is,  and  in  what  plight;  to  look  backward  and  see 
how  he  came  where  he  now  is ;  and  forward  and  see 
how  best  to  extricate  himself;  how  much  he  must  be 
content  to  lose,  and  how  much  he  can  save,  and  what 
he  can  afford  to  lose,  and  what  he  must  save.     This,  as 


SERMONS.  229 

it  would  be    evidence  of  prudence,  is    also   a   sign  of 
strength. 

There  is,  indeed,  one  course  nobler  and  better  yet; 
i.  c,  when,  even  before  the  calamity  comes,  one  has 
made  up  his  mind  what  is  best  to  be  done,  has  fully 
planned  out  his  line  of  conduct,  taken  into  considera- 
tion the  difficulties  "and  the  failures  which  may  occur, 
has  anticipated  and  made  provision  for  all  possible  re- 
verses, when  one  has  foreseen  where  the  danger  is 
likely  to  break  out,  is  ready  for  every  emergency,  and 
is  so  completely  master  of  himself  and  master  of  his 
situation,  that  instead  of  being  overwhelmed  by  disas- 
ter, he  emerges  victorious  over  the  past,  strong  in  the 
present,  hopeful  for  the  future.  Indeed,  there  are  sit- 
uations when  this  is  a  man's  only  salvation,  when,  if  he 
is  not  prepared  to  act  with  the  utmost  promptness,  he 
is  lost !  There  are  difficulties,  dangers  and  disasters 
ahead  which  can  be  foreseen,  which  a  mind  accustomed 
to  reason  on  general  principles  and  laws  will  perceive 
to  be  inevitable,  against  which  it  can,  therefore,  fortify 
itself. 

"A  prudent  man  foreseeth  the  evil  and  hideth  him- 
self, but  the  simple  pass  on  and  are  punished."  When 
it  can  be  thus  foreseen  one  will  be  stronger,  of  course, 
to  meet  it.  But  sometimes  it  breaks  unexpectedly  on 
a  community  or  an  individual.  Disaster  overtakes  them 
unawares.  And  when  that  is  the  case,  it  is  no  proof  of 
weakness  to  pause  in  one's  course  to  consider  the  situ- 
ation, and  to  delay  action  not  until  it  is  too  late,  but 
until  the  way  becomes  clear  enough  for  the  adoption  of 
some  definite  course.  For  men,  governments,  societies, 
all  bodies  which  act,  must  have  a  policy;  that  is  to  say, 
they  must  have  a  distinct  and  clear  understanding  of 
what  they  are  about,  and  of  the  means  employed  to 
bring  about   the  results  contemplated.     They  must  act 


230  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

from   principles  and  not  from  shifting  expediencies,    if 
they  would  succeed, 

4.  It  is  no  proof  of  weakness  for  a  man  when  admon- 
ished by  some  decisive  disaster  that  the  course  which 
has  been  pursued  in  seeking  any  end  is  wrong,  to  aban- 
don it  and  enter  on  a  new  course. 

If  the  policy  adopted  to  secure  any  object  fairly  and 
utterly  breaks  down,  showing  that  it  can  no  longer  be 
relied  on,  wisdom  dictates  its  abandonment.  It  is  no 
act  of  weakness  to  give  up  that  which  is  weak.  Of 
course  a  plan  which  has  been  adopted  thoughtfully, 
candidly,  conscientiously,  which  seems  at  the  time  the 
best  possible,  deserves  and  should  receive  a  fair  trial. 
But  when  it  has  been  tried  fairly,  sufficiently,  long 
enough,  and  thoroughly  enough,  and  has  been  found 
wanting,  it  is  anything  but  imbecility  to  throw  it  away, 
saying,  "No  more  of  that."  It  is  strength  rather.  It 
is  weakness  not  to  do  it.  It  is  imbecility  to  cling  to 
old  prejudices,  to  adhere  to  moth-eaten  precedents,  to 
throw  away  golden  opportunities,  because  to  do  other- 
wise would  require  a  little  sacrifice  of  pride.  This  ob- 
stinate adherence  to  prejudices,  to  certain  policies  with 
which  a  man  has  identified  himself,  or  with  which  a 
party  has  identified  itself,  this  stubborn  persistence  in 
trying  to  do  what  experience  shows  abundantly  can 
not  be  done,  or  ought  not  to  be  done,  recoils  with  ter- 
rible effect  upon  the  head  of  those  who  are  guilty  of  it. 
History  is  full  of  examples  of  the  fatal  consequences  of 
such  folly.  There  has  been  no  more  fruitful  source  of 
disaster  than  that  moral  cowardice  which  shrinks  from 
the  confession,  "I  am. wrong!  I  have  acted  foolishly!" 
and  turns  over  a  new  leaf  One  of  the  noblest  and 
wisest  things  which  a  man  or  a  people  can  do  in  time 
of  adversity  is  to  make  a  frank,  manly  acknowledgment 
of  defeat,   of  failure,  of  grievous  error ;    to  accept  the 


SERMONS.  231 

humiliating  fact  with  all  its  inevitable  results,  however 
painful — not  to  make  a  maundering  and  silly  parade  of 
it,  for  men  should  preserve  their  self-respect  in  advers- 
ity— but  to  face  it  fearlessly,  to  probe  it  honestly,  to  own 
it  freely  and  then  to  gird  themselves  at  once  to  retrieve 
their  failure,  to  turn  their  back  on  all  which  led  to  it,  to 
avoid  in  future,  the  errors  of  the  past  and  by  the  wis- 
dom and  experience,  as  well  as  the  humility  and  pa- 
tience acquired  through  adversity,  to  work  out  a  more 
glorious  destiny  than  if  the  failure  had  never  befallen 
them :  that  is  wisdom  :  that  is  strength. 

But  let  us  consider  briefly  what  it  ts  to  faint  in  the 
day  of  adversity.  And  what  are  some  of  the  signs  of 
weakness  which  adversity  brings  into  prominence, 

I .  It  is  a  sign  of  weakness  in  adversity  to  lose  faith 
in  God. 

God  is  an  everpresent  reality.  He  is  personally  pres- 
ent everywhere.  His  Providence  is  over  all  his  works. 
All  the  issue  and  results  of  life  are  included  in  his 
plan.  All  the  calamities  and  sufferings  which  visit  the 
human  family  are  embraced  in  his  purposes,  and  per- 
mitted or  ordained  for  their  good.  The  greatest  dis- 
asters therefore  ought  not  to  take  away  our  confidence 
in  him.  Nothing  must  be  allowed  to  rob  the  soul  of 
its  faith  in  God.  This  faith  is  essential  to  our  spiritual 
life,  just  as  God  himself  is  essential  to  all  life.  It  is  in- 
dispensable to  all  faithful  activity  in  the  service  of  God. 
It  is  the  true  basis  of  that  calmness,  that  peace  which 
should  underlie  every  feeling  and  deed.  Man  cannot 
afford  to  lose  it  therefore.  It  is  true  that  the  mind 
may  be  stunned  by  the  shocks  of  adversity,  it  may  be 
paralyzed  by  the  lightning-stroke  of  calamity;  it  may 
be  bewildered  by  the  confusion  of  a  general  wreck  of 
everything;  and  in  this  temporary  paralysis,  this  pres- 
ent bewilderment,   it  may  be  pressed  by  cruel  doubts. 


232  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

But  this  condition  must  not  be  allowed  to  become  per. 
manent.  God  will  allow  no  blow  so  heavy  to  fall  on  a 
man  as  to  crush  him  forever.  He  himself  may  desire  to 
ity  our  faith,  to  test  its  truth  and  power;  he  may  roll 
heavy  burdens  on  it;  he  m.ay  send  the  floods  to  beat 
against  it,  and  to  sweep  over  it;  but  destroy  it — quench 
it — uproot  it,  that  he  never  will.  If  it  is  swept  away, 
it  is  because  it  never  had  taken  firm  root.  If  it  ever  is 
crushed,  it  is  because  it  never  had  any  true  vitality. 
If  men  settle  down  in  unbelief,  if  they  learn  to  doubt  the 
goodness  of  God,  to  distrust  his  power,  to  suspect  his 
willingness  to  hear  prayer,  and  his  readiness  to  answer 
it,  to  regard  him  as  a  God  afar  off, — it  is  a  weakness, 
a  guilty  weakness,  a  sin ;  for  every  such  weakness,  is 
no  misfortune  merely,  it  is  a  crime;  and  if  it  deserves 
pity,  it  deserves  no  less  consideration.  Beware  of  that 
insidious  device  of  an  evil  heart,  which  says  of  a  sin, 
"It  is  my  infirmity!"  and  hopes  thus  to  extenuate  its 
guilt,  if  not  to  escape  punishment.  It  is  a  lying  refuge, 
which  like  every  other,  will  be  swept  away. 

2.  It  is  a  sign  of  weakness  in  adversity,  secondly, 
when  men  lose  their  faith  in  the  right,  in  its  present 
obligations,  and  its  ultimate  success. 

This  indeed  is  involved  in  what  has  already  been  said 
about  faith  in  God.  No  one  can  maintain  his  faith  in 
God,  and  lose  his  faith  in  the  right.  Nor  can  he  maintain 
his  faith  in  the  right,  and  lose  his  faith  in  God.  If  there 
is  a  God,  a  Holy  Being,  who  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to 
behold  iniquity,  and  who  cannot  look  on  sin,  who  hates 
impurity,  and  selfishness  with  infinite  abhorrence,  a  Just 
Being,  whose  purpose  is  immutable  to  punish  the  guilty 
and  to  reward  the  innocent,  and  to  secure  the  final 
triumph  of  the  right,  and  utter  overthrow  of  the  wrong, 
an  Almighty  Being,  whose  Power  is  the  willing  minis- 
ter of  his  Holiness,    Justice   and  Love,    and  the   sure 


SERMONS.  233 

guarantee  of  the  fulfillment  of  his  will,  why  or  how  should 
we  lose  faith  in  the  immutable  obligations  and  the  cer- 
tain success  of  the  right?  As  surely  as  God  reigns, 
and  as  surely  as  the  reign  of  God  means  the  reign  of  all 
which  God  approves  and  loves,  and  the  downfall  of  all 
which  God  disapproves  and  hates,  so  surely  will  the 
right  triumph  over  wrong.  To  doubt  this  is  to  doubt 
God.     To  disbelieve  this  is  atheism. 

The  most  dangerous  form  of  this  unbelief  is  the 
practical.  There  are  very  few  indeed,  if  any,  in  our 
days,  who  doubt  the  Reign  of  Right  as  a  theory.  The 
dictates  of  reason  are  too  unmistakable,  the  voice  of 
conscience  is  too  potent  to  permit  the  denial  of  it. 
But  there  is  a  practical  disbelief  of  it,  which,  as  it  is 
much  easier  to  fall  into  it,  is  as  much  more  insidious 
and  dangerous,  yes  fatal,  in  its  consequences,  as  it  is, 
alas,  more  widespread.  There  are  men  in  abundance, 
who,  while  in  theory  they  acknowledge  the  supremacy 
of  pure  justice,  will,  notwithstanding,  barter  it  for  pres- 
ent gain,  and  subordinate  it  to  the  claims  of  worldly 
expediency.  This  is  a  crime,  one  of  the  highest  mis- 
demeanors in  God's  government,  yea,  it  is  of  the  very 
essence  of  treason  against  God's  throne.  Every  lover 
of  absolute  right  should  revolt  from  it  as  the  basest 
infidelity  to  God.  Every  friend  of  justice  in  its  integ- 
rity, of  justice  as  God  desires  to  see  it  prevail  in  the 
world,  oi  justice,  I  say,  and  of  rigJit,  which  means  that 
which  ougJit  to  be,  that  v/hich  God  says  must  be,  not 
that  which  self-interest  desires  or  expediency  commands, 
should  spurn  away  from  him  every  attempt  to  com- 
promise truth  with  error,  right  with  wrong,  and  to  hold 
the  former  in  any  sort  of  abeyance  to  the  latter,  as 
treason  to  the  King  of  Heaven  and  Earth.  But  there 
are  those  who  without  any  deliberate  purpose  to  betray 
the  right,  who,   desiring  perhaps  to  maintain  it  as  far 


234  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

as  seems  to  them  practicable,  (which,  however,  is  put- 
ting the  matter  on  a  very  slippery  footing,  since,  by 
that  which  is  practicable,  most  people  seem  to  under- 
stand that  which  is  compatible  with  their  own  interests), 
there  are  those  who  from  such  motives  will  under  the 
pressure  of  adversity  allow  themselves  to  swerve  from 
that  inflexible  allegiance  to  the  right,  and  the  just,  and 
the  true,  which  God  demands.  But  this  also  is  a  crime. 
Call  it  weakness  if  you  will,  it  is  criminal  weakness. 
It  carries  its  own  condemnation,  just  as  much  as  the 
more  calculating  and  devilish  betrayal,  of  which  others 
are  guilty. 

I  have  already  remarked,  that  when  the  ends  sought 
after  are  seen  to  be  absolutely  impracticable,  or  essen- 
tially immoral  and  injurious,  we  are  justified  in  aban- 
doning them,  nay,  we  are  required  to  do  it.  It  is 
weakness  to  hold  on  to  them.  Also,  that  when  the 
means  which  have  been  adopted  to  secure  a  manifestly 
just  and  noble  end,  fail  entirely,  and  that  from  their 
own  inherent  v/eakness,  we  are  required  to  discard  them 
and  try  others.  But  when  the  ends  are  indisputably 
high  and  worthy,  and  when  the  instrumentalities  are  both 
righteous  and  efficient,  to  cast  them  away,  just  because 
a  temporary  reverse  occurs,  which  postpones  fulfillment 
of  the  end,  and  cripples  the  instrumentalities  for  a 
season,  is  most  deplorable  weakness,  is  the  breach  of  a 
divine  and  heavenly  trust.  When  we  have  a  noble  end 
before  us,  and  the  right  sort  of  means  in  our  hands, 
there  is  but  one  thing  to  be  done — to  go  on,  and  to  go 
on  until  the  end  is  gained.  If  we  lose  our  wa)',  let  us 
try  to  find  it  as  soon  as  we  can,  and  then  go  on  again. 
If  we  find  unforeseen  obstacl  ;n,  let  us  bring  all  the 
power  that  v/e  can  to  remove  them  out  of  the  way,  and 
then  go  on  again.  If  the  enemy  is  thicker  on  the  v/ay 
and  all  around  us  than  wc  had  anticipated,  let  us  mul- 


SERMONS.  235 

tiply  our  powers  and  resources,  let  us  be  a  little  more 
watchful  and  determined,  and  still  go  on.  If  the  road 
is  longer  to  the  goal  than  we  had  deemed  it  to  be,  let 
us  be  a  little  more  patient,  but  let  us  still  go  on.  If 
the  path  is  rougher  than  we  thought  it  was,  let  us  take 
a  little  more  time  to  it,  but  all  the  time  let  us  go  on. 
If  we  fall  down,  let  us  get  up  and  go  on  again.  If  we 
are  more  badly  hurt  than  we  thought  at  first,  let  us  do 
our  best  cheerfully  to  get  over  it,  and  then  go  on  again. 
If  it  costs  us  more  than  we  reckoned  upon,  let  us  make 
up  our  minds  to  the  sacrifice,  and  then  go  on.  The 
question  of  questions  is,  are  we  in  the  right  way?  Is 
the  right  before  us?  Is  justice  our  Guide?  Is  truth 
our  Leader?  Is  God  the  pillar  of  light  which  we  fol- 
low? 

If  we  are  sure  of  that,  and  there  is  no  reason  why 
we  should  not  be,  let  us  onward.  On,  and  on,  and 
on,  while  the  Right  keeps  moving.  When  that  stops, 
we  may  stop  too ;  not  before.  When  the  end  is 
gained,  we  may  rest;  no  sooner.  When  God  bids  us 
halt,  we  may  do  so,  but  the  order  is  not  yet.  When 
the  banner  of  righteousness  is  furled,  we  may  go  to 
sleep.  When  it  is  stricken  down,  never  to  be  raised 
again,  we  may  throw  away  our  arms  and  return  from 
the  warfare.  But  that  is  never  to  be.  If  men's  hands 
should  fail  to  bear  it  up,  angels'  hands  will  seize  it.  If 
one  after  another  they  should  let  it  fall,  God's  own  hand 
will  raise  it,  and  his  hand  must  fail  ere  it  be  made  to 
trail  the  dust.  Nay,  it  must  never  be  abandoned.  No  ! 
not  for  a  moment.  Right  must  always  and  forever  be 
maintained — followed  to  the  grave  and  into  it ;  clung 
to  until  death.  Up  with  the  standard!  If  .one  stand- 
ard-bearer falls,  let  another  rush  to  his  place ;  if  he 
falls,  let  another  seize  it. 

Let  it  be  held  up  against  a  tempest  of  fire,  against  the 


236  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

crashing  hail  of  earth  and  hell's  artillery ;  let  it  be  fol- 
lowed through  flood  and  flame.  It  is  never  more 
v/orthy  of  our  devotion  than  when  the  storm  of  battle 
rages  around  it,  than  when  it  is  tried,  or  rather  when 
we  are  tried  in  supporting  it. 


XI. 

A  THANKSGIVING  SERMON. 

Isaiah  51 :  9-15.  "  Awake,  awake,  put  on  strength,  O  arm  of  the  Lord  ;  awake  as  in 
the  ancient  days,  in  the  generations  of  old.  Art  thou  not  it  that  hath  cut  Rahab 
and  wounded  the  dragon? 

Art  thou  not  it  that  hath  dried  the  sea,  the  waters  of  the  great  deep ;  that  hath 
made  the  depths  of  the  sea    a  way  for  the  ransomed  to  pass  over  ? 

Therefore  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  shall  return,  and  come  with  singing  unto 
Zion  ;  and  everlasting  joy  shall  be  upon  their  head  :  they  shall  obtain  gladness  and 
joy;  and  sorrow  and  mourning  shall  flee  away. 

I,  even  I,  am  he  that  comforteth  you  :  who  art  thou,  that  thou  shouldest  be 
afraid  of  a  man  that  shr.ll  die,  and  of  the  son  of  man  that  shall  be  made  as  grass  ; 
And  forgettest  the  Lord  thy  maker,  that  hath  stretched  forth  the  heavens,  and  laid 
the  foundations  of  the  earth;  and  hast  feared  continually  every  day,  because  of 
the  fury  of  the  oppressor,  as  if  he  were  ready  to  destroy  ?  And  where  is  the  fury 
of  the  oppressor  ? 

The  captive  e.xile  hasteneth  that  he  may  be  loosed,  and  that  he  should  not  die  in 
the  pit,  nor  that  his  bread  should  fail. 

But  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God,  that  divided  the  sea,  whose  waves  roared: 

The  Lord  of  hosts  is  his  name.'' 

Nothing  strikes  us  more  forcibly  in  these  old  writ- 
ings, in  these  prophecies,  poems  and  historical  records, 
which  make  up  our  Sacred  Book,  than  the  deep,  in- 
tense, ever  present  consciousness,  which  pervades  them, 
of  an  all-surrounding,  all-embracing,  all-inspiring.  Infi- 
nite, Personal  Presence,  whose  glory  overshadows,  whose 
Power  sustains,  v/hose  Spirit  quickens,  whose  love  fills 
all  things.  It  is  this  same  sense,  this  living  realization 
of  God  which,  above  all  else,  is  needful  to-day,  that 
our  gratitude  may  be  deep,  pure  and  abounding.  We 
hear  much  said  in  these  days  of  "the  Logic  of  Events," 
"the  Genius  of  History, "  "Social  Forces,"  "the  hand 
of  Destiny."  I  am  not  disposed  to  question  about  the 
occasional  use  of  such  terms.  Like  the  phrases,  "Laws 
of  Nature,"  "Physical  Forces,"  they  are  often  conveni- 

(237) 


233  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

ent  and  expressive.  Nor  is  the  fact  that  they  are  the 
pet  expressions  of  men  who  disbeheve  in  a  Personal 
God,  who  deny  an  inteUigent,  over-ruHng  Providence, 
of  itself  a  decisive  objection  to  their  use.  Only  let  us 
not  be  blinded.  As  philosophers,  speculating  in  ab- 
stract ideas,  there  is  no  objection  to  the  use  of  general 
terms,  as  symbols  of  certain  facts.  As  poets,  thinking 
in  metaphors  or  in  allegories,  there  is  no  objection  to 
the  use  of  figurative  expressions,  as  images  of  certain 
realities.  But  as  earnest,  thoughtful,  religious  men,  de- 
sirous to  know  the  truth,  yearning  to  see  into  the  deep, 
inner  facts  of  being,  anxious  to  discover  our  obligations 
as  subjects  of  the  King  of  Kings,  we  had  better  dispense 
with  abstractions  and  figures,  and  speak  in  the  simple 
utterances  of  a  pious  heart.  To-day,  as  we  seek  to  re- 
alize our  obligations  to  Him  who  has  made  us,  blessed 
us,  and  brought  us  where  we  now  stand  to-day,  we 
must  have  something  else  to  talk  about  than  Logic 
and  Laws. 

In  this  world  of  sin,  temptation,  trial,  we  need  all  the 
motives  which  have  any  power  to  impel  us  toward  God. 
Of  these,  gratitude  is  at  once  one  of  the  strongest  and 
most  elevated.  Henry  Rogers  has  called  attention  to 
the  fact  that  this  is  the  great  instrumental  feeling  which 
Christianity  employs  in  restoring  man  to  God ;  and  he 
observes  that  gratitude  for  past  good  is  a  stronger  mo- 
tive than  the  hope  of  future  good  can  possibly  be.  Now, 
gratitude  is  possible  only  in  view  of  personal  benefi- 
cence. You  can  not  manifest  gratitude  towards  any 
impersonal  thing  or  force.  The  tree  which  bears  nu- 
tritious and  delightful  fruit,  the  fountain  which  sends 
forth  pure  and  refreshing  waters,  the  sun  which  radiates 
light,  each  is  a  benefactor  and  its  benefactions  are  in- 
valuable, but  they  excite  no  gratitude.  It  is  the  same 
with  a  force  or  a  law.     The  lav/   which  produces  the 


SERMONS.  239 

succession  of  seasons  is  a  most  beneficent  law,  but 
no  one  thinks  of  thanking  it.  No  shipwrecked  mari- 
ner, saved  by  cHnging  to  a  floating  plank,  or  by  swim- 
ming ashore,  dreams  of  returning  praise  to  the  Law 
of  Specific  Gravity,  although  he  owes  his  life  to  it.  No 
people  delivered  from  oppression,  or  victorious  over 
their  enemies,  have  been  known  to  erect  temples  or  al- 
tars, or  votive  tablets  to  the  Logic  of  Events.  But  let 
men,  who  have  been  delivered  from  some  great  calam- 
ity, or  visited  by  some  benediction  of  Providence,  be 
told,  ' '  It  was  God  who  saved  you  :  It  was  God  who 
visited  you  !"  and  let  them  feel  that  it  was  indeed  God, 
and  gratitude,  reverence  and  love  will  flow  forth  as 
spontaneously  as  song  from  a  cheerful  heart.  In  all 
the  benefactions,  therefore,  which  as  a  people  we  enjoy 
to-day,  in  all  the  reasons  for  gratitude,  which  we  are 
about  to  consider,  let  us  seek  to  discern  the  gentle  and 
Opulent  Hand,  the  warm,  living,  loving  Heart  of  our 
ever  near,  ever  gracious  Father.  The  great,  central 
theme  of  gratitude  which  I  would  present  to-day  is 
Progress,  the  growth  of  the  American  Nation  as  the  re- 
sult of  our  National  trial,  that  growth  as  indicated  by 
our  present  condition  and  character,  compared  with  our 
condition  and  character  at  the  time  when  our  trial 
began. 

And  first  of  all,  and  as  lying  at  the  very  root  of  our 
national  growth,  I  would  mention  the  progress  which 
has  been  made  in  the  feeling  of  nationality,  in  the 
sense  of  our  responsibility  to  maintain  our  national  life. 
This  fact  of  nationality  has  indeed  been  doubted.  But 
this  was  in  itself  a  terrible  witness  to  the  truth  that 
whether  or  not  we  are  one  nation,  at  least  we  ought  to 
be  one.  The  mournful  spectacle  here  exhibited  to  the 
v/orld,  of  tv/o  large  sections  of  a  continent,  separated 
by  no  frowning  and  impassable  barriers,   subject  to  no 


240  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

such  differences  of  climate  and  production  of  physical 
resources  and  conditions,  as  would  necessitate  their 
population  by  distinct  races  of  men,  but  bound  together 
rather  by  links  subtle  as  air  or  dew,  and  yet  strong  as 
the  everlasting  mountains, — the  spectacle  of  two  people, 
two  for  the  time  being,  speaking  the  same  language, 
sprung  from  a  common  ancestry,  long  subject  to  the 
same  government,  identified  in  their  main  interests  and 
pursuits,  possessed  essentially  of  the  same  physical  and 
mental  characteristics,  nurtured  by  the  same  literature, 
science,  art,  religion, — the  spectacle  of  two  such  peo- 
ple, making  deadly  war  on  each  other,  putting  in  the 
field  armies,  which  for  magnitude  and  military  equip- 
ment have  never  been  equalled,  such  a  spectacle  is  itself 
a  most  overwhelming  argument  that  there  ought  to  be 
here  but  one  American  nation,  that  the  interests  of 
peace,  of  humanity,  and  of  progress  demand  that  there 
should  be  but  one.  For  if  a  war  so  vast,  so  fierce,  so 
desolating,  could  arise  once  within  the  limits  of  the 
same  national  fold,  what  must  be  the  horrors  of  the 
continuous  and  inevitable  wars  which  must  arise  be- 
tween two  distinct  nations,  occupying  the  same  relative 
positions,  each  more  numerous,  m.ore  powerful,  better 
prepared  for  war,  than  was  either  section  at  the  outset 
of  this  contest,  as  would  certainly  be  the  case  in  a  few 
generations,  by  the  simple  force  of  progress?  But  the 
same  witness  testifies  that  there  is  a  nation  here,  that 
there  is  also  a  clear  recognition  of  the  necessity  of 
national  union,  that  there  is  in  some  degree  the  spirit 
of  a  just  national  pride,  and  of  a  broad  national  love, 
that  there  is  a  God's  voice  in  the  heart  of  the  people — 
we  must  be  one  and  indivisible. 

Some  have  agreed  that  the  secession  from  the  Union 
of  so  many  States,  the  demand  for  separation  of  so 
many  millions,  the  contribution  of  so  much  money  and 


SERMONS.  241 

treasure,  and  the  levying  of  such  large  armies  to  en- 
force separation,  and  the  bitterness  and  fierce  determi- 
nation with  which  that  object  is  pursued,  are  proof 
positive  that  the  nation  has  been  divided,  that  hence- 
forth we  must  be  two. — By  the  same  process  it  may 
be  argued,  and  yet  more  justly  and  powerfully,  that  the 
contrary  voice  of  a  great  majority  of  the  people,  the 
decision  of  more  than  tv/ice  as  many  millions  that  the 
nation  is  one,  their  determination  that  it  shall  not  be 
divided,  the  contribution  of  vaster  sums  of  money,  and 
the  raising  of  larger  armies  to  maintain  the  unity  of  the 
nation,  are  proof  positive  and  irrefragable  that  we  are 
one,  and  that  no  schemes  of  designing  men,  no  con- 
spiracies of  a  spurious  and  corrupt  aristocracy,  built  up 
on  the  enslavement  of  men,  no  temporary  madness  on 
the  part  of  deluded  multitudes,  led  astray  by  ignorance 
and  inflamed  prejudice,  shall  be  allowed  to  put  asunder 
what  God  has  joined  together.  Never  since  the  time 
when  this  nation  first  asserted  and  established  its  inde- 
pendence, never  since  the  days  w^hen  the  Father  of  his 
country  addressed  to  the  people  those  noble  and  pres- 
cient words  of  warning  in  which  he  portrayed  the  evils 
of  dissolution,  never  certainly  during  these  later  years 
of  political  deterioration — during  which  the  nation's  pride 
seemed  to  slumber,  while  "Union"  had  fallen  to  be  the 
watchword  of  scheming  men,  a  veil  behind  which  they 
concocted  plots  against  Union  and  Liberty — has  the 
idea,  the  fact  of  nationality  shone  forth  in  these  United 
States  with  more  majestic  glory  than  since  this  great 
reawakening  of  the  nation  to  a  sense  of  its  honor  and 
its  right.  Not  only  has  the  war  revealed  and  proved 
this  nationality,  it  has  enlarged  and  exalted  it,  given  it 
intelligence,  consistency  and  strength.  The  assertion 
which  has  been  made  of  the  principle,  the  clearness 
with  which  the  necessity  of  the  fact  has   been    demon- 


242  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

stratcd,  the  sacrifices  which  have  been  made  to  sustain 
it,  have  endeared  it  more  than  ever  to  all  hearts,  and 
given  it  a  hold  upon  them,  such  as  it  never  had  before. 
Never  since  its  birth  has  the  American  nation  been 
more  truly  a  nation  than  it  is  to-day. 

But  how  was  it  when  this  trial  was  sent  upon  us? 
Was  this  sense  of  nationality  always  as  deep  and  un- 
compromising as  it  has  now  become?  Let  me  ask  you, 
have  you  always  felt  the  same  assurance  of  the  fact, 
and  the  same  confidence  in  the  reality  of  this  national 
life  as  you  now  feel?  Look  back  a  little,  and  see: 
not  to  the  time  when  the  Union  of  the  States  was  the 
dream  of  a  dozing  and  lethargic  peace,  or  the  cant  of 
demagogues,  but  to  those  later  and  darker  hours  that 
have  passed  since  the  thunder  which  smote  on  Sumter 
first  startled  us  out  of  our  dreams,  to  those  terrible 
crises  during  which  the  faith  of  the  nation  has  been  so 
severely  tried: — Ah!  do  you  not  remember  how  at  the 
first  outbreak  of  the  rebellion,  when  State  after  State 
was  passing  its  ordinance  of  secession,  and  when  a  fee- 
ble and  faithless  administration  took  no  measures  to 
stay  the  plague,  but  ministered  to  it  the  rather,  men 
looked  with  pale  fear  into  each  other's  faces,  as  the  fate 
of  the  nation  hung  trembling  in  the  balance,  trembling, 
because  so  rampant  and  defiant  was  treason,  that  it  was 
doubtful  whether  the  nation  had  enough  patriotism  left  to 
strike  treason  a  blow  that  might  send  it  reeling  to  its  lair? 
Do  you  not  remember  how,  yet  later,  after  the  nation 
had  been  committed  to  war,  after  it  had  drawn  the 
sword  to  maintain  its  sovereignty,  after  the  thunder  of 
a  thousand  cannon  had  proclaimed  that  armed  rebellion 
must  be  crushed  by  the  nation's  strong  right  arm,  after 
tens  of  thousands  of  the  noblest  and  bravest  of  our 
brethren  had  sealed  that  declaration  with  their  blood, — 
how  that,  after  all  this,  scarcely  one  year  ago,  the  same 


SERMONS.  243 

cruel  doubt  returned,  the  same  anxious  questioning- 
Is  there  enough  of  pure  patriotism  to  carry  this  war 
through  ?  and  how  that  it  seemed  once  again  as  though 
we  must  answer,  No !  Treason  is  stronger  than  Loyalty, 
and  more  cunning  than  Loyalty  is  wise ;  there  is  not 
enough  of  the  spirit  and  love  of  country  to  save  the 
nation !  Strange  that  it  should  have  been  so,  and  no 
less  mournful  than  strange !  For  who  does  not  know 
that  in  all  lands,  in  all  ages,  among  all  tribes  and 
kindreds,  and  tongues,  the  instinct  of  nationality,  the 
love  of  country,  the  sentiment  of  loyalty,  has  been 
recognized,  as  one  of  the  most  profound,  one  of  the 
most  commanding,  one  of  the  most  exalted  principles 
of  a  nation?  Philosophers  have  loved  to  praise  it; 
poets  have  loved  to  sing  it;  historians  have. loved  to 
describe  it;  heroes  have  loved  to  die  for  it.  It  has 
been  the  soul  of  many  of  the  most  honorable  achieve- 
ments of  courage  and  endurance  recorded  in  history; 
it  has  been  the  moving  power  in  many  of  the  no- 
blest movements  by  which  the  progress  of  the  race 
has  been  furthered ;  it  has  been  the  inspiration  of 
many  of  the  loftiest  strains  of  eloquence,  of  the 
grandest  deeds  of  daring  and  self-sacrifice  which  the 
world  has  ever  known.  First  our  God !  next  our 
Country !  Such  has  been  the  battle-cry  of  hero-souls 
in  every  age.  How,  then,  came  it  to  pass,  that  in  this 
land  so  highly  favored,  in  this  American  heart,  with  its 
many  just,  brave,  and  generous  instincts,  in  this  Amer- 
ican nation,  possessed  of  so  many  of  the  highest  and 
most  promising  attributes  of  national  life  and  glory, 
the  privilege  of  a  nation  to  claim  the  undivided  alle- 
giance of  all,  should  have  been  not  only  doubted,  but 
denied ;  that  here  there  should  have  been  found  in  some 
quarters,  a  haughty,  fierce,  and  disdainful  rejection  of 
national  obligations,  and  in  otliers  but  a  cold,  heartless, 


244  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

scarcely  concealed  indifference  to  the  same  ?  What  have 
been  the  causes  of  this  debasement  of  national  feeling? 
First  of  all,  and  most  radical  of  all,  the  spirit  of  world- 
liness,  selfishness,  materialism  which  has  grown  up  to 
such  strength  and  magnitude  all  over  the  land,  which 
had  subordinated  everything  to  itself,  which  was  dis- 
posed to  sacrifice  every  interest,  principle,  and  respon- 
sibility to  its  own  requirements,  which  compelled  all 
considerations  of  public  justice  and  morahty  to  yield  to 
the  claims  of  self-interest. 

Secondly  :  the  corrupting,  destructive  spirit  of  slav- 
ery, which,  actuated  by  an  ambition  that  can  only  be 
characterized  as  infernal,  and  finding  in  the  prevalent 
spirit  of  materialism  a  convenient  and  willing  instru- 
ment to  -serve  its  ends,  succeeded  by  its  haughty  in- 
solence, its  overweening  pride  of  power,  its  despotic 
sway  over  timid,  time-serving,  self-seeking  men  and 
parties,  its  dangerous  sophistries  and  enervating  false- 
hoods in  politics,  morals,  and  religion,  in  producing 
sectional  alienation  and  strife,  a  spirit  of  insubordination 
against  rightful  authority,  a  disregard  of  sacred,  civil 
and  moral  obligations,  the  systematic  corruption  of 
public  men,  the  prostitution  of  official  pov/er  to  its 
ambitious  schemes,  the  poisoning  of  public  sentiment, 
a  widespread  apostasy  from  the  principles  and  policy 
of  the  founders  of  the  Republic,  a  mournful  departure 
from  the  spirit  which  gave  birth  to  the  nation,  and  the 
loss  of  that  respect  for  manhood,  and  of  that  generous 
conception  of  liberty,  which  is  the  very  soul  of  life  to 
a  republic.  Lastly:  the  baneful  influence  of  a  false 
idea  of  loyalty,  invented  by  a  sagacity  which  can  only 
be  characterized  as  satanic,  which,  foreseeing  the  time 
when  the  antagonism  of  liberty  and  slavery  must  issue, 
if  not  in  the  total  subjugation  of  one,  then  in  their 
separation,   cunningly  prepared  for  that  separation  by 


SERMONS.  245 

the  diligent  inculcation  of  the  theory  of  State  Sover- 
eignty, of  the  right  of  each  State  to  the  supreme  alle- 
giance of  its  citizens,  a  theory  utterly  subversive  of  all 
true  nationality,  and  wholly  fatal  to  that  higher  loyalty, 
which  rising  above  all  territorial  limitations  and  all  sec- 
ondary jurisdictions,  reaches  upward  to  that  grand, 
dominant,  primary  Sovereignty,  which  embraces  all 
that  is  signified  in  the  word  Nation,  which  is  co-ordi- 
nate and  co-extensive  with  all  that  an  American  should 
mean,  with  all  that  every  true  American  docs  mean, 
when  he  says,  My  Counhy. 

And  now,  to  v/hat  a  fearful  extent  these  causes  com- 
bined had  enfeebled,  and  all  but  destroyed  the  spirit 
of  nationality,  let  this  war  testify.  How  widely  spread, 
and  how  powerful  that  fatal  heresy  which  has  carried 
out  of  the  Union  one-third  of  the  States  which  com- 
posed it.  How  many  a  noble  spirit,  a  Zollicoffer,  a 
Johnson,  a  Jackson,  has  been  seduced  by  it  from  his 
lawful  allegiance,  and  led  into  the  dishonored  grave  of  a 
traitor.  What  embarrassments  has  the  same  fallacy, 
perverting  the  public  sentiment  of  our  own  North, 
thrown  in  the  way  of  the  Government  in  the  successful 
suppression  of  the  revolt,  what  hindrances  it  has  occa- 
sioned, what  vacillation,  what  delays !  And  worse  than 
all,  and  most  shameful  of  all,  how  deeply  and  widely 
had  the  foul  and  fatal  virus  of  Slavery  tainted  the  body 
politic,  and  paralyzed  whatever  was  sound  and  healthy 
therein,  when  such  a  war  as  this,  for  such  a  cause,  had 
become  possible.  What  a  sad  and  terrible  confession 
to  make,  that  in  this  government  calling  itself  free, 
claiming  to  be  the  example  and  champion  of  liberty 
among  the  nations  of  the  earth,  founded  in  the  declar- 
ation, that  all  men  who  bear  the  image  of  God  are 
created  free,  created  each  with  the  inalienable  right 
to   himself,    a  right    in  which    he    is    the  eaual    of  all 


246  LLEWELYN  lOAN  EVANS. 

Others,  that  in  this  model  republic,  where  every  throb 
of  the  nation's  brain  should  be  liberty,  where  every 
throb  of  the  nation's  heart  should  be  liberty,  where  ev- 
ery tramp  of  the  nation's  footsteps  should  sound  forth 
liberty,  that  here  should  have  existed  a  purpose  so  foul, 
so  fell,  so  damning,  to  stamp  forever  on  the  national  es- 
cutcheon the  black  stain  of  slavery;  that  here  should 
have  been  hatched  a  conspiracy  so  extensive  and  powerful 
as  to  consummate  that  nefarious  design  at  the  cost  of  war 
and  disruption,  that  this  monster  curse  should  have 
been  caressed  and  nurtured,  until  in  the  pride  of  its 
strength  and  the  wildness  of  its  passion,  it  should  seize 
on  the  nation's  heart  and  seek  to  crush  out  its  life,  so 
that  it  requires  the  utmost  straining  of  the  nation's 
energies  to  shake  it  off,  and  dash  it  to  destruction ! 

What  a  mournful  evidence  of  the  poverty  into  which 
the  spirit  of  nationality  among  us  had  sunk,  that  when 
the  question  had  become  ;  Which  shall  perish,  the  Nation 
or  Human  Slavery?  there  should  have  been  found,  not 
millions,  not  even  thousands,  but  any,  to  say,  "  Let  the 
nation  be  rent  in  twain,  sooner  than  that  a  being,  made 
in  the  image  of  God,  should  have  the  brand  of  a  chattel 
taken  from  his  brow!  Let  the  nation  be  overthrown 
from  top-stone  to  corner-stone,  sooner  than  that  a  free 
spirit,  endowed  with  the  heritage  of  immortality,  should 
have  its  fetters  burst !  Let  the  nation's  Hfe  be  extin- 
guished in  an  ocean  of  blood,  sooner  than  that  a  system 
which  makes  man  a  brute,  which  annuls  the  sacredness 
of  marriage,  which  makes  motherhood  a  mockery, 
which  makes  merchandise  of  God's  children,  which 
buys  and  sells  Jesus  Christ  in  the  market-place,  for  it 
buys  and  sells  his  brethren,  should  even  be  impaired!" 

My  countrymen !  had  it  been  a  system  fraught  with 
physical,  intellectual,  and  social  advantages  to  the  in- 
habitants of  this  Continent,   which  had    come  into  an- 


SERMONS.  247 

tagonism  with  the  perpetuity  of  this  nation,  had  it 
been  an  institution  transmitted  for  generations  from 
fathers  to  children,  fragrant  with  patriarchal  benedic- 
tions, sweet  with  sacred  memories  of  the  "storied  past" 
clustering  about  it,  endeared  with  the  hallowed  associa- 
tions of  names  embalmed  in  a  nation's  reverence,  con- 
secrated by  the  tear-baptisms,  and  the  prayer-baptisms 
of  ages,  there  ought  still  to  have  been  a  spirit  of 
nationality  in  this  people,  strong,  brave,  and  stern 
enough  to  say,  Before  The  Nation  be  allowed  to  wreck 
itself  on  that,  let  it  be  mined  and  blown  into  a  myriad 
atoms !  But  that  v/hen  the  life  of  a  nation  was  put  in 
peril  by  an  institution,  branded  with  the  curse  of  Cain, 
infamous  with  the  scorn  of  ages,  sentenced  to  crouch 
like  a  leper  outside  of  the  gates  of  Christendom,  be- 
smeared like  the  idol  Moloch  by  the  blood  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  wrung  out  of  them  by  the  sting 
of  the  lash,  and  the  fang  of  the  blood-hound,  vocal 
with  the  groans  of  a  scourged,  a  tortured,  an  outraged 
humanity,  yea,  vocal  with  groans  never  heard  on  earth, 
audible  only  to  the  ears  of  a  God  of  Infinite  Justice,  the 
groans  which  vv^ould  have  been  uttered,  had  not  the  man- 
hood of  the  victims  been  benumbed,  paralyzed,  crushed, 
blighted  with  a  curse  worse  than  death, — that  then  the 
question  should  have  been  raised  even,  in  a  land  calling 
itself  free,  in  a  land  calling  itself  Christian :  which  shall 
live.  The  Nation  or  The  Curse'?  that  when  it  was  raised, 
there  should  have  been  found  multitudes,  not  only  in 
those  States  which  gloried  in  the  shame  of  human  bond- 
age, but  in  States  calling  themselves  free,  and  which 
were  free  indeed  from  the  immediate  presence  of  the 
evil,  although  not  from  its  curse, — multitudes  ready  to 
say.  Perish  the  Nation,  but  let  Slavery  live! — this  was 
a  sight  most  astounding,  most  shameful,  most  humili- 
ating !     But,  God  be  praised  !  to-day  the   shame   is  at 


248  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

least  felt ;  the  humiliation  has  issued,  we  trust,  in  hu- 
mility and  repentance  ;  the  retribution  which  has  over- 
taken us  is  felt  to  be  just ;  the  punishment  which  God 
is  inflicting  on  us  has  been  mercifully  over-ruled  to  the 
re  awakening  of  the  nation's  conscience,  and  of  the 
nation's  life.  We  shudder  as  we  think  how  near  we 
came  to  the  betraying  of  the  Divine  trust  committed  to 
us.  For  we  have  learned,  and  the  fires  of  war  have 
burned  the  conviction  into  our  souls,  that  a  nation's 
life  is  a  trust  as  sacred  as  that  of  the  individual,  not 
to  say,  more  sacred.  Woe  be  to  the  nation  which 
does  not  realize  the  worth  of  its  life,  which  becomes 
indifferent  to  its  mission,  which  abdicates  its  God-given 
prerogatives !  Woe  be  to  the  nation,  which,  by  its 
effeminacy,  its  luxury,  its  folly,  its  corruption,  becomes 
incapable  of  sustaining  its  claims  to  be  a  member  of 
God's  family  of  nations  !  Woe  be  to  the  nation,  which 
dies  by  its  own  hand !  Such  nations  there  have  been 
in  the  w^orld.  Their  corpses  lie  on  its  highway  to-day. 
The  curse  of  heaven  lies  on  the  shrunken,  blighted, 
bedwarfed,  inane  phantasms  which  represent  them. 
They  were  guilty  of  self-murder ;  and  the  suicide  among 
nations  is  a  criminal  in  the  sight  of  God,  no  less  than 
the  suicide  among  men.  Who  can  doubt  that  were 
this  nation  to  consent  to  its  disruption,  the  curse  of 
the  crime  would  rest  on  its  fragments  ? 

Will  any  one  pretend  that  the  disintegration  of  this 
republic  into  diverse  confederacies  and  sovereignties, 
would  not  impair  the  essential  nationality  of  the  peo- 
ple, any  more  than  a  diversity  of  governments  has 
oblrterated  the  German  nationality  or  the  Italian?  But 
who  does  not  know,  that  where,  as  among  the  Ger- 
mans and  Italians,  there  is  a  real  underlying  basis  of 
nationality,  the  irresistible  tendency  is  toward  unity, 
and  that  all  present  division  is  regarded  as  a  calamity? 


SERMONS.  249 

Or  will  any  one  say,  that  it  is  a  fallacy  to  assume  that 
we  are  but  one  nation,  that  in  reality  we  are  already 
two,  and  that  the  success  of  the  rebelHon  would  be 
only  the  logical  and  historical  development  of  that 
which  already  lies  in  the  nature  of  things?  A  greater 
fallacy  than  that,  or  one  whose  absurdity  were  more 
ridiculous,  if  its  malignity  did  not  make  it  odious,  it  is 
difficult  to  conceive.  When  we  behold  the  continent — 
home  of  the  nation,  veined  as  it  is  with  rivers,  and 
ribbed  with  mountain-ridges,  which,  reaching  from  the 
winter  to  the  summer  zone,  speak  of  no  Northern 
nation  and  no  Southern,  but  only  of  one  American  na- 
tion— When  we  look  at  our  past  history  as  a  people, 
our  education  in  one  grand  world-school,  our  fraternal 
intercourse  and  commingling,  which  has  been  going  on 
now  for  two  centuries  without  a  suspicion  of  diverse 
nationalisms  having  been  entertained  for  a  moment, 
until  of  late  the  interests  of  Slavery  had  made  the 
fiction  necessary — When  we  consider  the  futility  of  all 
the  arguments  employed  to  prove  the  existence  of  an- 
tagonistic nationalities,  arguments,  which,  if  they  have 
any  force,  would  split  up  and  splinter  every  people  on 
the  face  of  the  globe — When  to  all  this  we  add  the 
prospect  which  presents  itself,  if  two  or  more  nation- 
alities be  allowed,  alike  and  nearly  equal  in  intelli- 
gence, prowess,  wealth,  energy  and  independence, 
especially  if,  at  the  same  time,  unlike  and  divergent  in 
their  social  system,  their  political  aspirations,  their 
national  aims,  in  any  of  those  points  which  would  alone 
necessitate  or  justify  their  division,  the  prospect  of 
collisions,  jealousies,  misunderstandings,  enmities  and 
incessant  wars  —  When  we  contemplate  all  this,  the 
idea  that  God  has  made  us  two,  or  many,  or  that  it  is 
his  desire  that  we  should  become  two,  or  many,  is  both 
incredible,  and  repulsive.      God  forgive  us  that  the  con- 


250  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

viction  of  this  was  too  feeble  to  prevent  even  the 
outbreak  of  a  war  so  gigantic  and  calamitous ;  but  God 
also  be  praised  that  this  very  war  has  so  deepened  and 
strengthened  that  conviction,  that  hereafter,  when  the 
supremacy  of  our  nationality  shall  have  been  triumph- 
antly maintained,  any  other  attempt  to  overthrow  it 
will  be  for  ages,  yea,  we  devoutly  believe,  forever 
an  impossibility.  Let  all  the  people  thank  the  Most 
High,  that  to-day,  as  never  before,  to-day,  nothwith- 
standing  the  prevalence  of  civil  war,  the  nation  is  a 
reality;  that  henceforth,  no  such  phantom  as  a  Virgin- 
ian nationality,  or  a  Carolinian,  or  a  Georgian,  shall  be 
allowed  for  a  moment  to  eclipse  this  great,  bright,  solar 
fact  of  the  American  nationality,  destined  to  become 
an  even  brighter  and  more  blessed  reality,  to  illuminate 
and  bless  this  earth ;  that  henceforth  it  will  be  the  rec- 
ognized and  solemn  duty  of  all  American  citizens  to 
cherish  and  cultivate  to  greater  intensity  and  purity,  the 
love  of  country,  to  bring  into  clearer  and  fuller  light 
the  consciousness  of  our  nationality,  to  guard  with 
more  sacred  jealousy  that  oneness  of  destiny  and  of 
glory,  which  God  has  given  to  be  our  inheritance. 

But  we  have  a  still  further  cause  of  gratitude  in  the 
fact,  that  not  only  has  progress  been  made  in  the  feeling 
of  nationality,  but  that  the  Divine  idea  of  that  nationality 
is  more  clearly  imderstood,  more  universally  recog- 
nized, and  more  faithfully  carried  out  than  perhaps  ever 
before. 

Assuming  it  as  established  that  God  has  given  us  a 
nationality,  the  question  arises,  why  ?  To  what  end  ? 
There  is  a  national  as  well  as  a  personal  individuality, 
distinctly  impressed  by  the  power  of  God.  National 
organisms  have  their  part  to  perform  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  world,  as  personal  organisms  have  in  the 
development  of  nations.      And  witliout  attempting  to 


SERMONS.  251 

press  the  analogy  too  far,  or  to  indulge  in  over-refine- 
ment of  speculation,  it  may  safely  be  assumed,  for  all 
history  shows  it  to  be  true,  that  the  leading  nationali- 
ties of  earth,  those  which  exert  a  controling  influence 
in  the  world's  development,  have  a  distinct  and  import- 
ant mission  entrusted  to  each  by  God,  Thus,  to  Greece 
was  assigned  the  mission  of  asserting  the  supremacy 
of  mind  over  matter,  of  intellectual  over  brute  force, 
of  science  and  art  over  animalism  and  barbarism. 
To  Rome  was  assigned  the  mission  of  asserting  the 
superiority  of  intelligent  self-controling  will,  of  discip- 
lined and  consolidated  civilization,  involving  the  supre- 
macy of  law,  and  the  subordination  of  the  one  to  the  all, 
whether  over  the  intelligent,  undisciplined  energy  of 
barbarism,  or  over  the  more  effeminate  civilization,  the 
frivolous  culture  without  energy,  the  intelligence  with- 
out will,  the  self-assertion  without  self-restraint  of  de- 
generate Greece.  To  the  Saracen  it  was  given  to  put 
forth  the  dignity  and  power  of  simple  faith,  its  supre- 
macy over  the  blind  superstition  of  oriental  heathenism, 
over  the  enervate  intellectualism  of  Greece,  or  even  over 
the  more  disciplined  and  practical,  but  latterly  the  less 
spiritual  and  earnest  power  of  Rome.  Whenever  any 
nation  proves  false  to  the  Divine  Idea  entrusted  to  it, 
God  prepares  its  fall. 

Thus,  when  Greece  forgot  its  misson,  and  made  the 
intellectual  serve  the  physical,  when  culture  became 
the  slave  of  sense,  when  science  became  sophistry,  and 
art  the  handmaid  of  luxury  and  corruption,  Greece 
fell.  When  Rome,  intoxicated  with  success,  and  mad- 
dened with  pride,  lost  its  power  of  self-restraint  and 
self-discipline,  used  its  energies  as  the  instruments  of 
self-aggrandizement  and  the  ministers  of  a  debased 
materialism,  forgot  the  sanctity  of  law,  and  the  para- 
mount claims  of  the  common  weal,  Rome  fell.      When 


252  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

the  Saracen  lost  his  simple  faith,  and  sank  into  a 
sensualism  yet  lower  than  that  of  the  nations  which 
he  had  conquered,  he  too,  became  a  nonentity  in  his- 
tory. The  law  is  universal  and  unfailing.  It  applies  to 
the  nations  of  to-day  as  well  as  to  those  of  the  past. 
Yea,  and  it  behooves  us  to  confess  to-day,  that  it  is 
because  this  American  nation  has  been  unfaithful  to  its 
trust,  because  it  has  departed  from  its  Divine  Idea,  that 
God  is  now  punishing  it ;  and  although  he  gives  us 
strong  encouragement  to  believe  that  he  does  not  now 
seek  its  total  overthrow,  it  is  at  least  his  manifest  pur- 
pose to  chastise  it,  that  through  chastisement  it  may 
be  brought  to  renew  its  consecration,  and  to  enter  on 
that  high  service  to  which  it  is  called,  with  greater  dili- 
gence and  conscientiousness  than  heretofore.  We  are 
thus  summoned  to  a  consideration  of  the  mission  of  the 
American  nation. 

On  the  very  threshhold  of  our  inquiry  Into  this  sub- 
ject, we  are  confronted  with  the  spirit  of  materialism, 
which  has  undertaken  to  decide  this  question  from  the 
lowest  of  all  standpoints,  by  the  shortest  and  narrowest 
of  all  standards,  and  which  has  thus  contributed,  in  no 
small  degree,  in  bringing  about  that  infidelity  to  its 
trust  of  which  God  now  accuses  the  Nation.  And  this 
has  been  its  language  :  "The  American  Nation  has 
been  organized  to  furnish  to  the  world  an  exam.ple  of 
wealth,  prosperity,  commercial  greatness,  industrial  suc- 
cess. Behold  a  country  rich  in  all  natural  resources, 
a  continent  of  fertility,  abounding  in  all  the  elements  of 
power,  whose  products  will  ere  long  be  adequate  to  supply 
the  demands  of  civilization  from  the  rising  of  the  sun  to 
the  going  down  of  the  same.  See  a  land,  where  every 
man,  if  he  has  only  the  requisite  tact,  energy  and  pru- 
dence, may  acquire  a  fortune.  Behold  a  people  inge- 
nious,   quick   witted,  enterprising,  ever   ready   to  avail 


SERMONS.  253 

themselves  of  whatever  tends  to  insure  success.  See 
what  they  have  aheady  accomplished.  Wildernesses 
have  been  transformed  into  gardens.  The  place  which 
is  to-day  the  haunt  of  the  savage,  is  to-morrow  the  seat 
of  empire.  Cities  spring  up  as  by  enchantment.  Riv- 
ers, which  yesterday  rolled  their  majestic  course  amid 
the  unbroken  silence  of  nature,  are  to-day  ploughed  by 
the  keel  of  the  steamship.  The  scream  of  the  fire-car 
sweeps  over  the  prairie,  which  resounded  but  now  with 
the  tramp  of  the  buffalo.  The  roaring  of  machinery, 
the  hum  of  trade,  the  sounds  of  husbandry,  the  lowing 
of  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills,  echoed  and  re-echoed  from 
shore  to  shore,  mingle  with  the  harmonies  of  its  East- 
ern and  Western  Oceans.  How  great  a  Nation  is  this, 
whose  commerce  whitens  the  seas,  whose  industry 
prints  its  footsteps  all  over  the  continent,  whose  innu- 
merable treasuries  overflow  with  precious  stores  !"  How 
often  has  this  spirit  confronted  us?  How  often  during 
the  days  of  our  peace  were  these  proud  boastings  heard, 
made  not  in  the  spirit  of  gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  all 
good,  not  in  the  lofty  consciousness  of  a  grand  moral 
destiny,  to  which  all  this  wealth  and  power  might  be 
made  subservient,  but  in  a  spirit  which  regarded  the 
prosecution  of  these  material  ends,  the  development  and 
accumulation  of  these  physical  resources  as  the  be-all 
and  the  end-all  of  our  national  life. 

Is  it  not  true,  that,  however  it  may  be  now,  until 
lately,  until  the  stern  teachings  of  war  had  shown  us 
the  shallowness  and  unworthiness  of  our  views,  the  Na- 
tion had  become,  in  the  popular  conception,  little  else 
than  a  vast  co-partnership,  organized  on  the  lowest  ma- 
terial basis : — a  great  Mutual  Insurance  Company,  to 
protect  and  to  advance  the  property  interests  of  its 
members  ?  Was  it  not  too  commonly  the  case,  that  the 
worth  of  the  Union  was  estimated  by  its  financial  value 


254  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

rather  than  by  any  higher  standard  of  worth  ?  But  there 
is  a  somewhat  higher  idea  of  the  American  nationahty 
which,  combining  itself  with  that  material  idea  just  de- 
scribed, was,  perhaps,  the  prevalent  idea  among  the 
mass  of  intelligent  and  active  American  citizens  almost 
down  to  the  present  moment,  which  yet  exerts  a  po- 
tent sway  over  large  multitudes.  This,  we  may  call 
the  Political  Idea.  The  characteristic  of  this  idea  is  that 
it  gives  prominence  to  the  political  significance  of  the 
State,  as  a  fact  of  more  perfect  accomplishment  here 
than  elsewhere.  It  regards  the  American  continent  as 
a  theater  for  the  most  satisfactory  solution  of  the  great 
problem  of  government,  the  adjustments  of  the  rights, 
privileges  and  obligations  of  men  as  citizens,  as  free  sub- 
jects of  law.  This  is  undoubtedly  a  condition  of  the 
Divine  Idea  of  our  Nationality,  an  integral  element  of 
its  development:  but  is  it  all?  Is  there  nothing  higher 
in  that  idea  than  the  expression  of  a  political  formula, 
the  establishment  of  a  governmental  system,  distin- 
guished by  the  harmony  and  equipoise  of  its  component 
forces?  This,  indeed,  were  no  trifling  achievement:  it 
were  one  of  vast  consequence  and  momentous  results. 
But  that  we  may  the  more  clearly  see  the  reason  which 
we  have  for  gratitude  in  the  prevalence  at  length  of  a 
yet  nobler  view  of  our  people,  let  us  look  for  a  moment 
at  some  of  the  practical  results  of  regarding  the  pro- 
duction of  a  political  system  as  the  highest  function  of 
American  Nationality.  Some  of  those  results  are  these : 
the  idea  of  citizenship  has,  in  great  measure,  eclipsed 
the  idea  of  manhood ;  the  claims  of  the  State  have  been 
too  often  stated  and  enforced  without  due  respect  to 
the  claim.s  of  humanity  :  the  idea  of  Law  has  too  far 
merged  itself  into  that  of  the  Popular  Will,  and  has 
thus  lost  the  attributes  of  fixity  and  authority :  Politics 
has  lorded   it  over  Morality:    the  Nation  has  become 


SERMONS.  255 

secondary  to  the  State,  whereas  the  State  ought  to  be 
the  servant  of  the  Nation. 

What  next  ?  There  has  resulted  the  diminution  of 
reverence  for  law,  as  a  thing  altogether  in  our  own 
hands,  capable  of  being  changed  and  moulded  at  will ; 
the  degeneracy  of  politics  into  a  trade ;  the  absorption 
of  the  nation's  energies  and  the  exhaustion  of  its  pas- 
sions in  exciting  political  contests ;  the  ascendency  of 
party  spirit,  and  the  substitution  of  the  claims  of  party 
for  the  claims  of  country;  the  politicalization  of  the  two 
great  intellectual  powers  of  the  land,  the  Rostrum  and 
the  Press,  and  their  consequent  degradation ;  the  degra- 
dation of  the  Rostrum  by  lowering  it  to  the  vulgar  tastes 
and  prejudices  of  the  rabble;  the  degradation  of  the 
Press  by  making  it  the  organ  of  sophistry,  vituperation, 
and  falsehood. — And  now  mark  how  God  is  punishing 
us  for  this.  In  consequence  of  this  lack  of  genuine 
heartfelt  reverence  for  law,  in  consequence  of  the  dispo- 
sition to  regard  it  merely  as  the  breath  of  a  popular  im- 
pulse, which  another  breath  may  dissipate,  and  not  as 
the  authoritative  determination  of  the  enlightened  Reason 
and  Conscience,  not  as  the  well-considered  expression  of 
that  which  must  be,  and  which  should  endure  ;  in  con- 
sequence of  this  surrender  of  the  State  to  political  traders 
and  tricksters,  in  consequence  of  this  subordination  of 
manhood  to  political  ends  and  uses;  in  consequence  of 
the  prevalent  servility  to  party ;  in  consequence  of  the 
dishonest  expedients  adopted  to  secure  partizan  success  ; 
in  consequence  of  the  lying  spirit,  which  has  so  largely 
possessed  the  platform  and  the  press;  in  consequence 
of  the  disproportionate  accumulation  of  the  intellectual 
and  emotional  life  of  the  nation  in  political  channels, — 
what  have  we  seen?  We  have  seen  the  authority  of  the 
Supreme  Lav/  of  the  land  scornfully  and  defiantly  repu- 
diated ;  we  have  seen  the  principle  and  the  right  of  an- 


256  LLEWELYN    lOAN    FA'ANS. 

archy  unblushingly  proclaimed;  we  have  seen  political 
machinery,  measures,  and  agencies,  made  the  instru- 
ments of  the  nation's  destruction ;  we  have  seen  nation- 
ality sacrificed  to  sectionalism ;  we  have  seen  the  revela- 
tions of  the  dishonesty  of  our  public  officials,  and  the 
corruptions  of  our  political  life  held  up  to  the  contempt 
of  the  world ;  we  have  seen  this  momentous  conflict 
scornfully  described  as  a  disgraceful  political  squabble ; 
we  have  seen  the  utterances  of  our  public  men,  the 
representations  of  our  orators,  and  the  statements  of  our 
press,  contemptuously  tossed  aside  as  unworthy  of  cre- 
dence, and  the  American  people  denounced  as  unvera- 
cious,  unscrupulous,  dishonest. — This  is  the  penalty 
which  we  must  pay  to-day ;  and  who  can  deny  that  it 
is  in  great  part  merited?  And  yet  these  consequences 
are  the  direct,  not  to  say  the  legitimate  outgrowth  of 
that  political  idea  of  our  nationality,  which  has  so  ex- 
tensively prevailed.  At  least  we  may  hope,  that  with 
the  predominance  of  a  higher  idea,  and  with  the  conse- 
cration of  the  nation  to  a  nobler  aim,  these  evils  will 
gradually  diminish.  And  it  is  to-day  a  cause  of  the 
deepest  gratitude  that  the  war  has  brought  this  higher 
idea,  this  nobler  aim,  in  the  clearest  light  before  us. 

The  problems  which  it  has  brought  with  it  have 
forced  upon  us  a  more  thorough  and  profound  investi- 
gation of  the  providential  mission  of  the  American 
People. — It  has  compelled  us  to  ask:  Of  what  signifi- 
cance is  this  struggle,  if  something  higher  is  not  involved 
in  it  than  the  success  of  a  political  experiment  ?  Is  it 
worth  the  tremendous  sacrifice  which  it  demands,  if 
nothing  else  is  to  come  out  of  it  than  the  determination 
of  mere  political  issues?  If  the  American  People  has 
no  higher  mission  than  to  build  and  run  a  political  ma- 
chine, why  go  to  war  to  stop  the  building  and  running 
of  another  such  machine?     What  is  the  Unseen  Impulse 


SERMONS.  257 

which  drives  this  nation,  almost  in  despite  of  itself,  into 
a  war  of  such  magnitude,  to  prevent  disruption?  What 
is  that  stern  inexorable  necessity,  which  compels  it  to 
maintain  at  every  cost  and  hazard  the  proclamation  of 
its  original  and  indissoluble  unity  ?  What  is  that  Future, 
that  glorious  destiny,  toward  which  an  invisible  Hand 
beckons  it  onward  through  the  Red  Sea  of  blood  ? 
These  are  questions,  through  the  solution  of  which, 
forced  upon  it  by  a  wise  and  merciful  Providence,  the 
Nation  has  at  length  been  educated  into  a  higher  idea 
than  it  has  ever  before  seriously  and  generally  realized, 
of  its  historical  world-mission. 

What,  then,  is  the  mission  of  the  American  Nation  ? 
I  answer,  to  vindicate  the  idea  of  manhood  in  its  full- 
ness and  integrity ;  manhood,  as  the  basis  of  individual 
freedom,  of  social  order,  of  national  growth ;  manhood, 
as  the  fountain  of  wisdom,  the  depositary  of  justice,  the 
inheritor  of  all  privilege  and  right.  Ours  is  the  first 
nationality  in  the  history  of  the  world,  which  has  made 
the  assertion  of  this  Divine  Fact  its  definite  aim.  Other 
nations  have  contributed,  doubtless,  to  its  development, 
but  no  other  has  ever  felt  itself  summoned  to  assume 
the  vindication  of  this  idea,  as  its  especial  function. 
The  great  declaratory  charter  of  its  rights,  the  immortal 
inaugural  in  which  it  first  enunciated  to  the  world  its 
inspiring  idea,  rests  on  the  .fundamental  truth,  that  all 
men  are  in  God's  idea  free.  Manhood,  it  affirms,  is  the 
grand  fact  of  social  and  individual  life.  It  is  the  crown 
of  all  creaturely  development.  It  is  the  goal  of  all 
history.  Heaven  and  earth  are  ordained  for  it.  Gov- 
ernment is  made  for  man,  not  man  for  government. 
All  institutions,  laws,  liberties,  rights,  penalties,  re- 
wards, are  shaped  to  the  production  of  this  result.  It 
is  superior  to  all  its  accidents.  Its  claims  and  preroga- 
tives are  to  be  vindicated  against  every  foe,    whether 


258  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

against  the  brute  force  which  would  crush  it;  or  against 
the  pride  of  rank,  which  would  scorn  it;  or  against  the 
selfishness  of  wealth,  which  would  traffic  in  it ;  or  against 
the  bigotry  of  caste,  which  would  ostracize  it ;  or  against 
the  tyranny  of  the  mob,  which  would  outrage  it. 
A  commonwealth  of  mc7i,  founded  on  the  attributes 
of  manhood,  on  freedom,  virtue,  intelligence,  self- 
respect,  self-control,  independence — such  is  the  ideal 
American  Commonwealth.  A  grander  idea  was  never 
given  to  any  people  to  cherish  and  to  actualize.  It  is 
an  axe  which  strikes  at  the  root  of  the  poison-trees, 
by  which  humanity  has  been  overshadowed,  and  its 
beauty  blighted.  It  is  a  fire  which  goes  forth  to  burn 
the  accumulated  mass  of  usurpation  and  wrong,  beneath 
which  the  true  life  of  manhood  has  been  buried.  It 
is  an  electric  power  v/hich  vibrates  in  the  sky,  clears 
the  overhanging  clouds  that  darken  the  world,  and, 
albeit  in  storm,  purges  the  atmosphere  of  its  deadly 
miasmas.  To  other  nations  it  has  been  granted  to 
vindicate  this  or  that  attribute  of  manhood,  but  to  ours 
it  has  been  granted  to  vindicate  its  Divine  Idea  in  its 
completeness,  to  be  the  Angel  flying  in  the  midst  of 
the  heavens,  proclaiming  over  sea  and  land  this  Eternal 
Evangel  of  Manhood.  It  is  the  advocate  of  personal 
independence;  the  apostle  of  individual  worth.  It 
throws  its  heavenly  aegis  around  man,  saying:  "Here 
is  the  image  of  God,  and  it  shall  be  sacred  forever." 
It  inculcates  faith  in  man,  without  which  no  progress, 
no  heroic  achievement  is  possible.  It  proclaims  the 
principle  of  self-government,  to-wit:  that  a  people  can 
administer  its  own  affairs,  by  virtue  of  its  own  inherent 
power,  wisdom,  justice,  benevolence,  on  the  basis  of 
universal  right,  and  guided  by  the  Eternal  Spirit, 
whose  inspiration  is  ever  present  in  all  the  movements 
of  humanity;  that  men  in  the  light  of  the  intelligence, 


SERMONS.  259 

and  under  the  promptings  of  the  conscience,  which 
God  has  given  them,  can  discern  and  ordain  the  best 
laws  for  their  government ;  that  a  nation  of  men,  bound 
together  by  the  common  recognition  of  human  rights, 
and  by  the  common  law  of  justice  and  liberty,  is  a 
better  executor  of  the  trusts  committed  to  it,  than  any 
man,  or  class,  or  order,  who  may  undertake  their  ad- 
ministration. Of  this  system,  this  National  Idea,  Man- 
hood is  the  central  pillar.  It  is  the  keystone  of  the 
arch.  Take  it  away,  and  all  must  fall  to  ruin.  Take 
it  away,  and  the  American  Republic  is  a  body  without 
a  soul,  a  corpse.  Take  it  away,  and  the  history  of 
this  people,  the  dealings  of  Providence  with  them, 
become  a  mystery,  which  time  in  its  whole  course  will 
scarcely  be  able  to  solve.  Take  it  away,  and  American 
Nationality  becomes  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision. 
This  is  the  Idea  of  that  Nationality,  grander,  indeed, 
in  its  present  development  than  in  its  first  germs. 

And  manifestly,  to  provide  for  this  idea  a  fitting 
theatre  of  development,  God  has  given  it  a  continent, 
a  world,  for  ages  shrouded  in  the  darkness  of  the  Un- 
known Mystery  which  haunted  the  ancient  world  from 
beyond  the  earth-surrounding  ocean-river,  and  then 
brought  to  light  in  the  fulness  of  time,  to  receive  and 
nurture  the  seed  of  liberty:  a  continent  lying  midway 
betwixt  the  extreme  East  and  the  extreme  West  of  yon 
old  world,  and  thus  so  situated  as  to  receive  and  com- 
municate the  throbbing  currents  of  international  life ;  a 
continent,  physically  the  oldest,  historically  the  newest, 
and  geographically  the  most  central,  built,  one  w^ould 
say,  on  purpose  to  be  the  heart  of  the  world ;  a  conti- 
nent on  which  the  Almighty  has  stamped  Diversity  in 
Unity,  Oneness  in  Variety,  as  though  expressly  to 
contribute  to  the  most  varied  and  manifold  development 
of  the  one,  but  multitudinous  nation  whom  his  Provi- 


260  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

dence  had  ordained  to  inhabit  it.  And,  manifestly, 
still  further  to  contribute  to  the  growth  of  this  grand 
organic  nationality,  God  has  been  bringing  and  still 
is  bringing  hither  the  offspring  of  all  the  leading  and 
vital  nationalities  of  the  old  world,  their  life,  their  active 
forces,  their  brain,  blood,  bone,  and  sinew,  their  ideas, 
powers,  and  characteristics,  all  the  elements  which  time 
has  engrafted  on  them,  and, fusing  them  together  in  this 
great  world-crucible,  is  producing  a  unitary  result  in  na- 
tional life  and  character,  the  like  of  which  has  never  else- 
where been  seen,  and  could  under  no  other  circum- 
stances be  produced.  And  why?  Manifestly  again, 
to  organize  here  a  nationality  which  should  be  the 
richest  and  ripest  fruit  of  all  ages  and  lands  ;  a  com- 
monwealth answering  to  Milton's  sublime  definition, 
"One  huge  Christian  personage,  one  mighty  growth 
and  stature  of  an  honest  man,  as  big  and  compact  in 
virtue  as  in  body;" a  Majestic  Empire  of  Freedom 
and  Fraternity,  which  might  be  for  all  the  world,  and 
for  all  time,  the  exponent  of  manhood  in  its  broadest, 
freest,  fullest  development ;  a  beneficent  Christian 
Power,  qualified  by  its  constitution,  its  education,  and 
its  animating  spirit,  to  understand,  to  reach,  to  influ- 
ence, to  lead,  to  elevate,  to  evangelize  all  the  nations 
of  the  earth. 

And  it  is  because  the  rebellion  of  the  South  is  a 
conspiracy  against  this  hope,  because  it  is  an  attempt 
to  blast  this  future,  to  wrest  from  the  American  common- 
wealth its  crown  of  glory,  to  pluck  from  the  Queen- 
nation's  brow  her  diadem  of  royalty,  to  blot  out  the 
stamp  of  unity  which  God  has  put  on  the  land,  to  ren- 
der nugatory  all  the  historical  preparations  which  the 
past  has  furnished  for  the  establishment  here  of  a 
world-ruling,  world-inspiring,  world-sanctifying  power, 
that  the  Nation  has  at  length  arisen  in  its  Majesty,  and 


SERMONS.  261 

uplifting  its  hand  to  the  Eternal  Throne,  has  sworn  by 
him  that  sitteth  upon  it,  and  with  the  aid  of  his  Omnip- 
otent Arm,  to  crush  it  utterly  and  forever. 

At  length  it  has  become  fully  alive  to  its  mission. 
And  v/hen  it  sees  that  Holy  Mission  warred  upon,  when 
it  finds  a  minority  rebelling  against  it,  trampling  with 
the  heel  of  scorn  on  the  Declaration  by  Vv^hich  the  Na- 
tion's independence  was  secured,  denouncing  with  bitter 
and  contemptuous  hatred  the  fundamental  truth  on  which 
the  Republic  was  built,  denying  with  fierce  disdain  the 
sacred  claims  of  manhood,  pouring  contumely  on  the 
image  of  Deity,  seeking  to  rivet  indissoluble  fetters  of 
bondage  on  souls  whose  liberty  God  came  to  proclaim 
and  secure ;  when  it  finds  itself  overwhelmed  with  a  war 
so  portentous,  so  devastating,  so  bitter  in  its  fruits,  a  war 
inaugurated  as  a  crusade  against  God's  Idea  of  Man  and 
in  behalf  of  the  Devil's  Idea,  which  would  make  a 
man  a  thing,  a  soul  a  slave ;  a  war  either  to  subvert 
all  nationality  or  to  wrest  from  the  Nation  its  charter  of 
life,  to  compel  it  to  stultify  all  its  past  professions,  all 
the  labors,  achievements  and  sacrifices  of  its  fathers,  to 
make  it  blind  to  the  heavenly  charms  of  freedom  and 
the  dignity  of  personality,  to  make  it  deaf  to  the  celes- 
tial voice  of  Liberty,  and  the  thunder  tones  of  human 
progress,  to  make  it  dumb  that  it  may  not  utter  the 
sublime  inspirations  which  sound  from  the  battle-fields, 
whereon  bleach  the  bones  of  the  heroes,  of  the  heroes 
of  liberty  and  nationality  from  Marathon  and  Thermop- 
ylae down,  and  ring  in  every  noble  heart — when  the 
Nation  sees  all  this,  its  firm,  unalterable  resolution  is : 
The  Union — that  Union  which  represents  all  that  is  sa- 
cred in  our  past,  precious  in  our  present,  glorious  in  our 
future, — must  be  preserved:  while  the  foe  of  our  na- 
tionality, the  destroyer  of  our  brotherhood,  that  Wrong 
which  represents  whatever  is  most  shameful  in  our  past, 


262  LLEWELYN  lOAN    EVANS. 

trag^ic  in  our  present,  and  fatal  to  our  future,  that  curse, 
which  would  divide  what  God  has  joined,  which  would 
make  weak  what  God  has  made  strong,  which  would 
make  that  a  power  for  injustice,  which  God  meant  to 
be  a  power  for  justice  and  liberty — must  be  destroyed. 
This,  thank  God,  is  the  Nation's  position  to-day.  It 
has  taken  us  some  time  to  reach  it.  Very  tender  has 
been  our  treatment  of  the  great  root-crime  out  of 
which  our  bitter  woes  have  grown.  Exceedingly 
cautious  have  we  been  lest  we  might  seem  to 
countenance  the  terrible  charge  of  malignant  enemies 
and  hypocritical  friends  of  the  government,  that  this 
war  is  in  any  sense  an  assertion  of  the  law  and  power 
of  liberty.  To  be  sure  the  war  is  primarily  and  fun- 
damentally to  preserve  the  government,  to  maintain  our 
nationality :  but  there  has  been,  one  might  suppose, 
a  very  unnecessary  degree  of  shrinking  from  the  open 
declaration  that  it  is  to  preserve  a  government,  whose 
soul  is  liberty,  that  it  is  to  maintain  a  nationality, 
whose  grand  mission  it  is  to  assert,  within  its  sphere, 
and  in  all  of  its  activities,  the  right  of  manhood.  It 
required  two  years  of  suffering,  of  anxious,  terrible  toil, 
of  costly,  bloody  sacrifice,  to  bring  us  to  feel  that  our 
only  salvation  is  in  taking  our  position  openly,  firmly, 
immovably  on  the  rock  v/hereon  our  Fathers  stood,  in 
identifying  ourselves  with  the  Divine  Idea,  which  is  the 
core  of  our  nationality,  even  the  sacredness,  the  invio- 
lability, the  Godlikeness  of  manhood.  God  be  praised, 
at  last  we  are  there !  At  last  we  are  prepared  to  say, 
that  liberty  is  the  supreme  law  of  the  land,  and  that 
liberty  is  commensurate  with  manhood.  This  is  to-day 
the  voice  of  the  Nation.  And  when  I  say  Nation, 
I  mean  that  spirit  of  nationality  which  is  now  so 
triumphantly  marching  on  in  the  tramp  of  our  armies, 
so  majestically  proclaiming  itself  in  the  suffrages  of  the 


SERMONS.  263 

people,  so  nobly  embodying  itself  in  the  acts  and 
declarations  of  the  government.  I  mean  whatever  is 
sound,  vigorous,  and  vital  in  the  power,  which  even 
now  dominant,  will  shortly  reign  supreme  and  alone.  I 
mean,  if  you  will  have  it  so,  the  North.  Yes !  the 
North  is  henceforth  the  Nation,  by  which  I  mean,  that 
the  civilization  of  the  North,  the  institutions  of  the 
North,  the  pohcy  of  the  North,  the  spirit  of  the  North, 
are  to  be  henceforth  the  civilization,  the  institutions, 
the  policy,  the  spirit  of  the  nation ;  and  that  whatever 
is  opposed  thereto  must  and  will  cease,  in  part  by  force 
of  law,  in  part  by  force  of  circumstance,  in  part  by 
force  of  assimilation  produced  by  a  freer  intercourse  and 
a  truer  union.  Hereafter  our  public  men  will  know  no 
North,  no  South,  not  for  the  old  reason  that  all  is  South, 
but  for  the  new  reason  that  all  is  North :  because  from 
the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf  the  ideas,  the  education,  the  lib- 
erty, the  progress  of  the  North  will  bear  sway  unchal- 
lenged and  unimpaired. 

Nor  in  this  process  will  the  South  be  lost.  Far 
from  it.  It  will  receive  new  life.  It  will  be  transformed 
into  a  higher  form  of  being.  Whatever  is  corrupt, 
barbarous,  unchivalrous,  unrepublican,  unchristian,  hav- 
ing perished,  then  whatsoever  is  noble,  generous,  vital, 
exalted,  will  pass  into  the  life-blood  of  the  new-born 
Nation,  to  be  an  element  of  beauty  and  strength.  It 
is  charged  that  victory  can  only  result  in  subjugation. 
Say  rather  in  the  liberation,  the  regeneration,  the  ele- 
vation of  the  South,  its  more  perfect  identification  with 
the  free  Imperial  Republic  of  the  future.  Then  will 
the  spectacle  be  seen  of  a  grand  homogeneous  nation- 
ality, a  noble  Christian  commonwealth,  possessed  by 
no  demon  of  discord,  bearing  no  brand  of  shame,  drag- 
ging in  its  footsteps  no  clanking  chain,  leaving  in  its 
footprints  no  crushed  or  mangled  emblem  of  divinity, 


264  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

but  animated  by  one  soul  of  liberty,  breathing  one 
spirit  of  love,  its  brow  shining  with  the  light  of  that 
celestial  commonwealth,  whose  union  is  perfect,  its 
footsteps  blossoming  with  peace,    and  life,   and  joy. 

We  praise  God  to-day  that  the  vision  of  this  Future 
is  granted  unto  us.  We  bless  Him  that  with  almost 
unclouded  eyesight  we  can  look  to  that  joyful  consum- 
mation. To-day  we  stand  on  Pisgah,  and  gaze  at  once 
backward  along  the  course  of  our  painful  pilgrimage, 
and  forward,  to  the  rest  which  we  trust  awaits  us,  and 
thank  God  for  the  one  and  the  other.  As  we  look  back, 
and  see  the  wilderness  through  which  we  have  fought 
our  weary  way,  with  its  terrible  trials,  its  hissing  veno- 
mous serpents,  its  fields  of  carnage  and  desolation,  as 
we  look  back  with  tearful  eyes  on  the  resting-places  of 
the  slain,  the  groans  of  the  loved  and  honored  brave, 
who  have  fallen  in  the  strife,  as  we  think  how  much  we 
have  been  called  on  to  bear,  to  suffer,  to  sacrifice,  we 
can  still  thank  God,  who  has  been  our  pillar  of  cloud 
by  day,  and  our  pillar  of  fire  by  night ;  who  has  been  so 
patient  with  our  murmurings,  our  unbelief,  our  longing 
after  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  our  worshiping  of  the 
golden  calf,  our  conspiracies  of  the  congregation  of 
Korah,  and  our  compacts  with  Moab  and  Midian ;  the 
God  who  has  inspired  our  legislators  and  our  rulers, 
given  them  patience,  wisdom,  courage  to  do  what  is 
right,  and  hearts  in  sympathy  with  the  great  heart  of 
the  People,  and  responsive  to  its  wishes  and  determina- 
tions, and  who  through  them,  amid  the  thunder  and 
lightning  of  battle,  has  given  the  Law  of  Liberty  to 
the  land ;  the  God  who  has  led  our  armies,  who  has 
sustained  the  hearts  of  our  brethren  in  the  field,  kept 
them  from  sinking  under  defeat,  or  from  ever  despair- 
ing of  the  Republic,  filled  them  with  a  loyalty  which 
cannot  be  shaken,  with  a  courage  which  knows  no  fal- 


SERMONS.  265 

taring,  with  a  patient  endurance  which  nothing  can  tire, 
with  a  love  of  country  which  shrinks  from  no  toil,  no 
suffering,  no  sacrifice,  to  save  her  from  dishonor ;  the 
God  who  after  many  sore  trials,  and  bitter  humiliations, 
has  at  length  smiled  on  our  arms,  crowned  them  with 
victory,  and  through  victory  strengthened  the  resolution, 
born  in  adversity,  to  consecrate  the  Nation  to  liberty, 
the  Union  to  humanity ;  the  God  who  has  restrained 
the  Nations  of  the  Earth,  whatever  may  have  been  their 
disposition,  from  falling  on  us  in  the  hour  of  weakness, 
despoiling  us  of  our  most  cherished  prerogatives,  and 
frustrating  us  in  our  endeavors  to  accomplish  what  we 
believe  to  be  our  chosen  mission  as  a  people ;  the  God 
who  has  done  wondrously  and  gloriously,  not  only  in- 
finitely beyond  what  we  deserved,  but  immeasurably 
more  than  we  have  ever  dared  to  hope  for.  We  praise 
him  as  we  look  forward  to  the  Land  of  Promise  toward 
which  he  has  been  guiding  us,  and  see  it  lying  before 
us,  resting  under  his  broad  bright  smile,  sparkling  with 
the  golden  streams  of  prosperity,  overflowing  with  the 
milk  and  honey  of  Learning  and  Art,  rich  in  the  wine 
of  liberty,  and  waving  like  Lebanon  with  the  never  fa- 
ding, lordly  crov/n  of  sovereign  manhood.  Our  feet  do 
not  indeed  quite  touch  it  as  yet.  We  have  the  Jordan 
yet  to  cross,  the  Canaanites  yet  to  fight,  and  a  long 
hard  struggle  perhaps  with  the  lingering  Philistines ;  we 
have  the  work  of  organization,  of  reconstruction,  of 
harmonization,  to  perform ;  we  have  the  battles  and 
victories  of  Peace  yet  to  win. 

But  the  God  who  has  led  us  hither  will  lead  us  to 
the  end.  His  arm  is  not  yet  asleep.  "Art  thou  not 
it  that  hath  cut  Rahab,  and  wounded  the  dragon? 
Art  thou  not  it  which  hath  dried  the  sea,  the  waters  of 
the  great  deep ;  that  hath  made  the  depths  of  the  sea  a 
way  for  the  ransomed  to  pass  over? "     We  thank  Him, 


266  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

then,  to-day,  for  the  goodly  prospect  which  expands 
before  us,  the  glorious  future  which  beckons  us  onward, 
glorious  in  its  responsibilities  as  well  as  in  its  promises, 
in  its  duties  as  well  as  its  hopes.  We  praise  Him  in 
behalf  of  that  despised  and  oppressed  race,  who  have 
bowed  so  long  under  th.e  yoke  of  slavery,  whose  blood 
has  so  long  cried  from  the  earth  for  vengeance,  who 
have  waited  so  patiently  and  prayed  so  fervently  for 
their  deliverance  from  the  house  of  bondage,  that  to  all 
of  them  the  day  of  their  salvation  is  nigh,  even  at  the 
door,  that  to  thousands  it  has  already  come,  that  to 
hundreds  it  has  been  granted  by  rallying  around  the 
banner  of  freedom  and  nationality,  by  swearing  to  up- 
hold it,  to  save  it  from  dishonor,  and  to  follow  it 
even  unto  death,  and  by  vindicating  their  oath  before 
the  mouth  of  the  caimon,  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet, 
and  in  the  deadly  trench,  by  doing  all  which  brave 
men  can  dare  or  do  in  a  noble  cause,  to  show  them- 
selves worthy  of  freedom,  and  deserving  of  a  nation's 
gratitude  and  praise. 

We  praise  Him  in  behalf  of  those  who  have  been 
summoned  to  make  great  and  costly  sacrifices  for  the 
country,  for  the  assurance  which  they  may  enjoy  that 
their  sacrifices  will  not  be  in  vain,  that  results  have 
been  already  secured  worth  all  the  ♦price  which  has 
been  paid,  and  that  those  which  we  may  hope  will  ere 
long  be  secured,  transcend  the  most  that  we  can  give. 

We  praise  Him  in  behalf  of  the  generations  yet  un- 
born, that  they  may  hope  to  be  spared  the  bitter  cup 
of  which  we  must  drink,  that  they  may  reap  the  har- 
vest of  beauty,  of  prosperity,  of  power,  of  progress, 
of  joy,  which  we  to-day  sow  in  tears  and  blood ;  that 
they  may  take  warning  by  whatever  in  us  has  been  un- 
wise, unworthy,  unmanly,  sinful;  and  inspired  by  what- 


SERMONS.  267 

ever  our  times  have   brought  forth  that  is  sagacious, 
honorable,  heroic,  just. 

We  praise  Him  in  behalf  of  the  oppressed  Nation- 
alities of  Earth,  that  the  expectations  which  they  have 
so  long  centred  on  this  Republic  do  not  seem  doomed 
to  disappointment,  that  the  example  of  self-government 
here  presented  is  not  to  become  a  shadow  and  a  mock- 
ery, that  here  they  may  always  find  a  sympatliizing 
Helper  and  Friend. 

We  praise  Him  in  behalf  of  all  the  free  Nationalities 
of  Earth,  that  here  they  may  hope  ever  to  find  a 
counsellor  and  fellow-laborer,  to  aid  in  the  great  work 
of  raising  humanity  to  the  enjoyment  of  its  noblest 
prerogatives  and  privileges. 

We  praise  Him  in  behalf  of  the  Church  of  Christ, 
that  here  may  spring  up  a  Missionary  Nationality, 
which,  by  its  central  position,  its  commercial  relations, 
its  popular  institutions,  its  spiritual  as  well  as  secular 
enterprise,  its  more  richly  constituted  and  freely  devel- 
oped humanity,  its  vast  resources,  its  training  in  the 
virtues  of  magnanimity,  liberality,  sympathy,  philan- 
thropy (indestructibly  engrafted  on  it,  we  pray,  by 
this  trial)  will  be  prepared,  beyond  any  other  nation, 
to  reach,  to  move,  to  civilize,  and  to  Christianize  the 
benighted  nationalities  of  the  globe,  until  that  bright 
Millennial  Day  shall  dawn,  when  universal  humanity 
shall  enter  on  the  possession  of  its  lasting  heritage  of 
liberty,  truth,  religion,  love,  when  the  great  brother- 
hood of  man  shall  bow  together  before  the  throne  of 
our  common  Father,  shall  circle  the  Cross  of  our  com- 
mon Redeemer,  and  strive  in  one  love,  for  one  faith, 
one  character,  one  immortality.  Then  shall  glory  be 
to  God  in  the  highest,  peace  on  earth,  good  will  to 
men. 


XII. 

THE  TESTS  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

Ephesians  3:  18.     "  May  be  able  to  comprehend  with  all  saints  what  is  the  breadth 

and  length  and  depth  and  height." 

In  its  intellectual  aspects  the  age  in  which  we  live  is 
wont  to  be  charged  as  a  critical  age.  As  humanity  ad- 
vances in  intellectual  power,  the  spirit  of  inquiry  and 
personal  independence  becomes  more  strongly  and 
generally  developed.  Men  are  less  disposed  than  of 
old  to  be  led  by  tradition,  or  lean  on  authority.  They 
insist  on  testing  whatsoever  claims  their  acceptance. 
This  is  so  especially  in  matters  of  religious  faith.  Chris- 
tianity itself  is  subjected  to  searching  tests,  and  probed 
through  and  through. 

An  impression  seems  to  prevail  in  some  quarters  that 
Christianity  is  afraid  of  this  trial,  that  it  shrinks  from 
these  tests.  Nothing  can  be  more  unfounded  than  this 
impression.  Whatever  a  few  timid  souls  here  and  there 
may  have  thought  and  said,  whatever  mistaken  policy 
of  proscription  or  persecution  a  benighted,  corrupt, 
enervated  church  may  sometimes  have  adopted,  Chris- 
tianity itself,  as  represented  by  the  faith  of  an  intelligent, 
healthy,  livdng  church,  has  ever  welcomed  the  fullest, 
most  searching  examination  of  its  claims.  Indeed,  it 
is  one  great  duty  of  the  advocates  of  Christianity  to 
hold  it  up  to  this  inspection,  to  help  men  in  applying  to 
(268) 


SERMONS.  269 

it  whatever  tests  are  in  themselves  legitimate  and  ap- 
priate. 

It  will  be  the  aim  of  this  discourse  to  aid  in  making 
an  application  of  one  such  test  to  Christianity,  as  we 
understand  it.  This  test  is  a  quality  not  very  easily 
defined  in  a  single  term,  for  which  no  single  term  is  in 
the  nature  of  the  case  altogether  adequate,  and  which 
can  not  be  better  described,  perhaps,  than  by  that  group 
of  terms  in  which  Paul  in  the  text  describes  the  Re- 
demptive Love  of  Christ,  when  he  prays  that  the  Ephe- 
sians  may  be  able  to  know  and  comprehend  what  is  the 
breadth,  and  length  and  depth  and  height. 

I  assume  now,  as  a  fundamental  axiom,  self-evident 
to  every  reflecting  mind,  that  a  trustworthy  system  of 
truth,  and  especially  a  true  science  of  Divine  things, 
must  possess  these  properties,  spiritually  interpreted,  of 
breadth,  length,  depth  and  height :  that  is  to  say,  it 
must  have  fulness,  richness,  (expansiveness, )  compre- 
hensiveness, manifoldness.  It  must  be  broad  and  long 
and  deep  and  high,  full  and  inexhaustible.  It  must 
have,  of  course,  other  qualities  besides  these,  such  as 
clearness,  consistency,  unity,  practical  utility,  and  the 
like :  but  these  qualities  being  presupposed,  it  may  be 
safely  laid  down  that  that  system  has  the  greatest 
antecedent  probability  in  its  favor,  Vvhich  is  largest  in  its 
contents,  widest  in  its  range,  most  manifold  in  its 
relations,  most  inspiring  in  its  power,  most  enriching  in 
its  contributions  to  the  higher  life  of  the  soul.  That 
representation  of  the  world  of  spiritual  facts  and  Di- 
vine realities  is  most  likely  to  be  true,  which  gives 
one  the  widest  scope  of  vision,  whose  horizon  is  broad- 
est, whose  zenith  is  highest,  whose  heavens  are 
most  spacious,  whose  depths  most  abound  in  trea- 
sures of  great  price.  That  religion  is  most  Divine 
which  answers  for  us  the  most  questions,  which  solves 


2/0  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

the  most  doubts,  which  fills  the  most  wants,  which 
touches  the  soul  at  most  points,  \vhich  opens  most 
avenues  of  communication  with  God,  whose  revelation 
brings  to  light  most  sublimity  and  perfection,  and  bears 
the  costliest  freight  of  ' '  truths  that  wake  to  perish 
never." 

I  shall  not  stop  to  argue  at  length  in  favor  of  this 
proposition.  It  is  implied  in  the  very  being  and  con- 
stitution of  man.  Behold  for  a  moment  this  product 
of  Divine  wisdom !  this  being  so  fearfully  and  won- 
derfully made !  Look  at  the  complexity  of  his  organ- 
ization, the  multiplicity  of  his  needs  and  susceptibil- 
ities, the  boundlessness  of  his  desires,  the  manifoldness 
of  his  relations,  the  illimitableness  of  his  capabilities. 
Surely  it  is  no  exaggeration  when  the  poet  says  of  the 
human  soul  that  it  is — 

"  Of  a  thousand  faculties  composed 
And  twice  ten  thousand  interests.' 

For  such  a  being  as  this,  so  bountifully  endowed, 
made  to  be,  in  the  language  of  the  old  philosopher, 
"the  measure  of  the  universe,"  that  m.ust  be  the  true 
reUgion  which  most  fully  corresponds  to  his  wants  and 
possibilities.  That  must  be  the  truest  version  of  the 
grand  universe  of  spiritual  facts,  v/hich  best  satisfies  and 
harmonizes  with  the'  soul's  needs  and  activities. 

We  come  to  the  same  conclusion  in  another  way. 
Look  at  this  universe  of  matter!  How  vast  I  how  end- 
lessly varied !  how  broad  and  long  and  deep  and  high ! 
how  rich  in  significance  and  beauty  is  even  this!  But 
compare  matter  with  spirit.  That  is  gross,  monotonous, 
barren,  lifeless :  this  is  ethereal,  infinitely  various,  free, 
potent,  productive.  The  one  is  but  a  shell,  the  husk: 
the  other  the  true  living  organism.  The  one  is  the 
shadow,  cold,  colorless,  unsubstantial,  dead:  the  other 
is  reality  glowing  with  beauty,  palpitating  with  life,  in- 


SERMONS. 


271 


stinct  with  energy.  The  material  world,  considered 
apart  and  alone,  is  finite  and  temporal.  The  spiritual 
has  God  for  its  centre,  infinity  for  its  boundary,  eternity 
for  its  measure,  and  is  traversed  its  whole  length  by 
mystery,  the  shadow  which  ever  trembles  along  the  line 
where  the  finite  borders  on  the  infinite.  The  one  is 
exhaustible  to  the  reason  and  feeling,  the  other  inex- 
haustible forever. 

Hence  then,  I  repeat,  the  system  that  most  faithfully 
reflects  the  boundless  universe  of  Divine  Reality  in  its 
magnitude  and  amplitude,  that  system  which  brings  the 
human  into  the  closest  connection  with  the  Divine,  the 
finite  with  the  infinite,  the  temporal  with  the  eternal, 
flashing  on  the  lov/er  the  light  of  the  higher,  and  in- 
vesting it  xAth  infinite  significance  and  worth,  such  a 
system,  it  needs  no  further  argument  to  show,  must 
be  that  which  God  meant  for  men. 

And  such  a  system  is  Christianity.  Alone  of  all  the 
systems  received  among  men  does  it  satisfy  the  terms 
of  the  test  which  has  already  been  laid  down.  The 
Word  of  God  claims  for  it  this  quality  in  language  most 
significant  and  emphatic.  It  is  called  a  manifestation 
by  the  Church  of  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God,  a  mani- 
festation made  to  the  principalities  and  powers  in  heav- 
enly places,  to  the  highest,  that  is,  in  the  celestial  hierarchy 
of  intelligence.  Angels  desire  to  look  into  it.  It  is  the 
mystery  hid  from  ages  and  from  generations,  but 
abounding  in  riches  of  glory  made  known  to  the  saints. 
It  is  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ.  It  is  what  eye 
hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  the  heart  conceived — ■ 
Yea,  the  deep  things  of  God  revealed  by  the  Spirit  who 
alone  searcheth  them. 

The  Bible  then,  we  see,  claims  for  Christianity,  as  a 
body  of  truth,  these  qualities  of  boundless  breadth,  of 
unsearchable  depth,   of  inexhaustible  fulness,   of  trans- 


2/2  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

cendent  glory.  Can  this  claim  be  justified?  Does 
Christianity  really  possess  these  qualities?  In  discussing 
these  questions  I  hope  to  make  it  appear  that  it  does, 
and  not  only  so,  but  that  the  one  form  of  Christianity 
for  which  this  claim  can  be  vindicated  is  that  wliich  is 
commonly  recognized  by  the  name  Evangelical  Chris- 
tianity. 

First  then,  let  us  test  in  the  light  of  the  principle  first 
laid  down,  the  claims  put  forth  by  Christianity  as  a 
system  of  supernatural  facts  and  agencies. 

The  theory  called  naturalism,  which  opposes  these 
claims,  teaches  that  everything  takes  place  v/holly 
and  exclusively  according  to  physical  law,  according 
to  a  certain  fixed  immutable  order.  There  is  a  line 
of  sequences  running  from  the  begining  to  the  end  of 
things.  No  power  can  come  between  the  cause  and 
effect,  and  change  the  course  of  law.  God  himself 
never  so  intervenes,  either  because  he  can  not,  being 
himself  bound  by  the  law  which  binds  nature,  or  be- 
cause he  will  not;  the  predetermined  order  estab- 
lished by  himself  being  the  best  possible,  so  that  it 
would  be  inconsistent  in  him  to  change  it.  And  this, 
it  is  claimed,  is  the  glory  of  the  system  of  nature.  It 
is  so  perfect,  so  harmoniously  adjusted  from  the  begin- 
ning, that  no  intervention  is  needed.  Whatever  der.i<:n 
God  had  to  fulfill  at  any  particular  point  is  provided  for 
in  the  system  itself.  No  exigency  can  be  sprung  upon 
it,  which  the  system  is  not  ready  to  meet. 

Whereas,  it  is  claimed  that  the  theory  of  the  super- 
natural, seems  to  imply  that  God's  original  plan  is  a  fail- 
ure. It  breaks  dov/n  here  and  there,  so  that  God  must 
step  in  to  repair  the  failure,  to  do  himself  what  the 
system  w^liich  he  first  chose  and  established  as  best,  as 
perfect,  has  shown  itself  inadequate  to  accomplish. 

Now  we  admit  that  if  God  has  called  mto  existence 


SERMONS.  ■  273 

nothing  but  matter,  nothing  which  is  not  moved  and 
determined  from  without,  the  argument  is  a  good  one. 
If  God  has  created  nothing  but  a  machine,  in  which 
one  wheel  is  set  in  motion  by  another,  and  in  which 
every  motion  of  every  v/heel  is  regulated  absolutely  by 
other  parts  of  the  machinery,  tlien  to  say  that  God 
puts  forth  his  hand  here,  and  his  finger  there,  to 
change  the  motion  of  one  wheel,  to  stop  or  reverse 
that  of  another,  to  secure  at  any  point  some  particular 
result,  which  the  machinery  at  that  point  fails  to  secure, 
tliat  is  to  reproach  God  with  failure.  But  this  is  ex- 
actly the  point  where  we  take  issue  with  materialism. 
According  to  its  theory,  the  universe  is  just  such  a 
machine. 

You  see,  then,  what  this  system  gives  you.  It  gives 
you  a  huge  machine,  constructed — perhaps — by  God, 
ages  ago,  but  since  then  let  alone,  running  itself, 
weaving  out  its  own  products,  God  standing  aside  and 
looking  on.  Or  else  if  you  prefer  the  statement,  for  it 
is  the  only  alternative  on  the  theory  of  naturalism, 
God  himself  is  that  machine.  This  endless  play  of 
cause  and  effect,  this  incessant  plying  of  the  shuttle 
of  law,  it  is  God  in  motion.  In  either  case  you  are 
shut  up  in  this  iron-bound  routine  which  you  call  law; 
you  are  under  the  inexorable  tyranny  of  causation; 
you,  and  everything  else,  are  mere  puppets  of  Fate. 
You  may  speak  of  "moral  agents,"  but  you  are  cheat- 
ing yourself  with  a  name.  All  agents  are  subject  to 
the  same  laws.  Your  actions,  and  all  actions,  are  de- 
termined by  powers  which  you  can  not  resist  nor 
change.  You  may  talk  of  "spiritual  world;"  it  is  a 
mere  euphemism ;  all  is  part  and  parcel  of  one  system. 
There  is  nothing  but  nature  anywhere.  You  may  talk 
of  "right  and  VvTong,"  but  it  is  only  an  illusion.  These 
words  mean  only  that  som^e  wheels  turn  forward,  and 


274  LLEWELYN    lOAN     EVANS. 

others  turn  backward,  whereas  if  you  could  only  see 
the  whole  machinery,  it  is  all  one.  You  may  talk  of 
"God;"  you  might  just  as  well  say  "Law,"  "Na- 
ture," "Fate,"  "Logic  of  Events,"  for  what  is  that 
which  you  call  God  after  all?  It  is  simply,  generally, 
a  metaphysical  convenience  to  account  for  the  existence 
of  things,  to  help  the  unscientific  mind  answer  the 
question — who  made  the  world  ? 

But  all  that  you  can  know  of  God  is  what  you  find 
out  in  nature.  All  that  God  can  do  for  you  is  just 
what  nature  does  for  you.  As  for  praying  to  God,  or 
thanking  him — what  is  the  use  of  it  all?  As  well  pray 
to  the  law  of  gravitation  to  bring  the  rain  down.  As 
well  thank  the  law  of  specific  gravity  for  preserving 
you  from  drowning.  As  well  love  the  law  of  nutrition 
for  sustaining  your  life.  Religion,  faith  in  the  unseen, 
trust  in  a  Power  who  uses  every  other  power  as  he 
wills,  love  and  reverence  for  One  whose  wisdom  is  un- 
searchable, and  his  ways  past  finding  out — it  is  all 
vanity.  Nature  is  all  in  all.  This  you  can  see,  touch, 
handle,  use,  and  knov/.  What  more  do  you  want? 
What  else  is  there  for  you  ? 

Now  let  us  turn  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Supernatural 
that  we  may  contrast  it  with  the  other,  and  judge 
which  gives  the  broadest  and  sublimest  view  of  God's 
Administration  of  the  Universe,  This  doctrine  you 
will  notice,  admits  that  there  is  a  system  of  nature,  a 
world  of  order,  uniformity,  law,  as  these  terms  are 
defined  by  the  Naturalist.  In  tJiat  system  everything 
is  subject  to  the  law  of  cause  and  effect,  and  so  far  as  we 
may  call  it,  for  practical  purposes,  a  machine.  More- 
over, this  machine  is  perfect  in  and  for  itself.  So  far 
as  the  results  belonging  to  itself  are  concerned,  no 
supernatural  interposition  is  needed.  But  this  machine 
docs   not  embrace   all    forms    of   existence.     God    has 


SERMONS.  275 

created  agencies  whose  movements  are  not  a  part  of 
the  mechanism  of  cause  and  effect.  He  has  made 
beings  in  his  own  image,  free,  independent,  having  the 
power  to  originate  movements,  to  produce  resuks  which 
would  be  impossible  in  a  mechanical  necessity.  Here, 
then,  we  have  in  effect  another  world,  another  system 
of  powers,  forces,  activities,  above  and  apart  from  that 
mechanism  of  cause  and  effect,  which  is  the  only  world 
recognized  by  naturalism.  And  the  doctrine  of  the 
supernatural  teaches  that  as  between  these  two  worlds, 
the  world  of  free,  spiritual,  self-moving  activity  is  far 
superior  to  the  world  of  necessity.  Its  powers  and 
activities  are  nearer  in  form  and  reality  to  those  of  God. 
Here,  then,  we  are  to  look  for  the  truest  interpretation 
of  God's  plan.  Here  we  must  expect  to  find  his  high- 
est and  largest  methods  of  working. 

Instead  of  making  that  lower  world  of  necessity,  of 
matter,  the  measure  of  this  higher  world  of  liberty, 
we  should  make  tJiis  the  measure  of  tJiat.  That  is  alto- 
gether subordinate  to  this.  That  v/orld  of  mechanical 
movement  is  simply  an  instrument  used  by  God  to 
further  his  plans  in  this  world  of  moral  movement,  of 
spiritual  activity. 

"  What  is  the  world,  the  starry  state 
Of  the  broad  skies — what  all  displays 
Of  power  and  beauty  intermixed, 
Which  now  thy  soul  is  chained  betwixt. 
What  else  than  needful  furniture 
For  life's  first  stage  ?  " 

Instead  of  judging  the  laws  of  God's  actions  by  what 
he  does  in  that  world  of  preparatory  instrumentalities, 
we  should  judge  them  by  what  he  does  in  the  world  of 
ultimate  results. 

Our  doctrine  affirms  still  further  that  this  latter  world, 
by  virtue  of  the  very  power  of  liberty  inherent  in  it, 
has  become  the  scene  of  fearful  disorder.      It  has  gene- 


2/6  LLEV\'ELVN    lOAN    EVANS. 

rated  within  itself  an  appalling  power  of  evil,  which 
strives  to  dislocate  the  universe,  to  send  it  from  its  God, 
and  to  hurl  it  back  into  chaos.  This  terrible  power  is 
what  no  mere  machine  could  ever  have  produced. 

It  is  a  perversion  of  a  glorious  power  which  has  in 
it  something  of  God  Himself.  Something  which  mat- 
ter could  never  contain  or  manifest.  It  strikes  at  the 
very  throne  of  God.  Is  that  conceivable  of  matter  or 
any  evolution  of  matter  ? 

Now  bear  in  mind  that  this  moral  system,  endowed 
with  these  wonderful  powers,  thus  disturbed  and  con- 
vulsed by  sin,  is  tJie  system  in  which  God  most  espe- 
cially reveals  himself;  that  its  interests  are  the  highest 
and  most  important  in  his  sight ;  that  the  ultimate  ends 
of  all  he  does  are  to  be  sought  for  here,  that  the  sys- 
tem of  nature  exists  for  this,  and  is  of  use  so  far,  and 
only  so  far,  as  it  helps  to  work  out  the  great  results  for 
the  sake  of  which  he  made  the  moral  world.  Bear  in 
mind,  moreover,  that  these  two  systems,  or  if  you  pre- 
fer, these  two  parts  of  the  one  great  system,  are  so 
different  in  their  quality,  their  organization,  their  move- 
ments, that  the  physical  world  can  no  more  solve  the 
problems  of  the  moral  universe,  than  a  calculating 
machine  can  expound  the  decalogue  ;  and  that  to  say 
that  in  dealing  with  the  mysterious  powers  of  the 
spiritual  v/orld,  God  must  use  the  same  methods  as 
in  the  natural,  and  none  other,  is  as  reasonable  as  it  would 
be  to  affirm  that  he  must  use  moral  forces  as  he  uses 
physical  forces,  in  conformity  to  the  principles  of  geom- 
etry. 

You  will  then  be  prepared  for  the  teachings  of  faith 
in  the  supernatural,  when  it  says  :  God  uses  the  system 
of  nature  as  he  wills,  to  secure  the  grand  results  of  his 
moral  administration.  He  uses  nature  as  his  instru- 
ment.     He  exercises  the  liberty  of  a  wise  and  sovcr- 


SERMONS.  277 

eign  Ruler  to  change  its  uniform  order,  whenever  the 
interests  of  his  moral  administration  require  it.  He 
opens  the  windows  of  heaven,  unseals  the  fountains  of 
the  deep.  "  He  springs  the  hushed  volcano's  mine,  he 
puts  the  earthquake  on  her  still  design,  darkens  the 
sun,  hath  bade  the  forest  sink,  he  changes  water  into 
wine,"  makes  the  blind  to  see,  brings  the  dead  to  life 
again,  in  a  word,  he  transcends  the  bounds  of  our  lim- 
ited experience,  asserts  himself  as  Lord  of  nature, 
constrains  it  to  the  performance  of  results  of  which  apart 
from  the  great  spiritual  ends  thus  accomplished,  nature 
itself  furnishes  no  foreshadowing. 

But  you  ask,  does  not  this  doctrine  in  the  least 
disparage  nature?  Does  it  not  dishonor  law  or  detract 
from  its  true  significance  ?  Not  in  the  least.  On  the 
contrary,  there  is  no  system  which  sets  on  nature  the 
seal  of  a  higher  consecration  than  Christianity,  in  that 
it  declares  nature  to  be  more  than  a  huge  mechanism 
of  physical  force,  more  than  an  intellectual  phenom- 
enon, to  be  in  truth  the  auxiliary  of  God's  moral  plan, 
his  pliant  instrument  in  the  spiritual  regeneration  and 
discipline  of  his  children.  The  Christian  system  is 
indeed  in  the  highest  sense  a  system  of  law,  not  a  law 
as  dominant  merely  to  these  grosser  material  elements 
of  existence,  not  of  law  as  confined  within  the  bounds 
of  our  brief  and  petty  experience  of  physical  facts.  It 
reveals  to  us  a  system  of  law  as  determined  by  the 
Divine  Mind,  of  law  as  manifesting  itself  in  the  illimit- 
able realms  of  spiritual  liberty  and  life,  of  law  as  the 
measure  of  the  Divine  purpose  that  runs  through  the 
ages  of  eternity.  Its  agents  are  not  the  dancing  pup- 
pets of  Destiny,  moved  by  some  higher  sort  of  electric- 
ity, which  makes  freedom  and  responsibility  impossible. 
They  are  sons  of  God  deriving  from  their  Author  capa- 
bilities   which   the   categories   of  Infinitude  can  alone 


278  LLEWEVLN  lOAN  EVANS. 

measure  and  contain.  Its  forces  are  not  mcaninfrlcss 
make-believes  playing  at  an  infinite  game  of  hide-and- 
seek,  sportively  disguising  themselves  as  Good  and  Evil, 
Truth  and  Error,  Angel  and  Devil,  whose  collisions 
have  no  significance,  essentially  more  real,  or  profound, 
or  lasting  than  the  clashing  of  billows,  or  the  battles  of 
ants.  They  are  endowed  with  the  free  rational  energy 
which  moves  in  Omnipotence  itself.  Its  disorders  and 
convulsions  have  power  to  shake  all  but  the  everlasting 
throne.  Its  conflicts  are  such  as  enlist  the  energies  of 
Omnipotence,  the  flaming  ardors  of  Infinite  Justice,  the 
gentle  but  invincible  compassions  of  Infinite  Love. 
Its  height  is  heaven  ;  its  depth  is  hell.  Its  glories  and 
joys  are  consummate  perfection  of  capabilities  which 
find  their  completion  in  the  Infinite;  its  horrors  and 
woes  are  the  dread  counterpart  of  those  glories  and 
joys,  the  abysmal  darkness,  desolation,  despair  of  lost 
souls. 

Contrast  again  for  a  moment  the  revelation  which 
Christianity  as  a  supernatural  system  gives  of  God, 
with  that  given  by  naturalism.  According  to  the 
latter,  as  we  have  already  seen,  God  is  little  else  than 
Force  or  Fate.  He  is  nothing  more  than  Nature  per- 
sonified. What  Nature  is,  God  is :  that,  and  that  only. 
The  solution  of  Nature  is  the  solution  of  God.  Man 
is  the  measure  of  the  universe,  and  the  universe  is  the 
measure  of  God.  But  what  does  Christianity  reveal  to 
us?  It  reveals  God  as  in  very  deed,  and  not  in  name 
only,  the  Infinite  One,  whose  intelligence  is  boundless, 
whose  wisdom  is  unsearchable,  the  laws  of  whose 
activity  infinitely  transcend  the  manifestations  you  find 
in  Nature,  so  that  it  were  easier  to  find  all  of  the  soul 
in  the  visible  actions  of  the  muscles  and  nerves  of  the 
body,  than  to  find  all  of  God  in  Nature.  It  reveals  God 
as  a  Ruler  whose  Kinsrdom  is  without  end.      A  Ruler 


SERMONS.  279 

whose  great  Plan  has  for  its  meaning  not  the  mere 
evolution  of  matter,  but  the  redemption  and  beatifica- 
tion of  spirit.  It  reveals  God  as  a  Father,  as  the  Head 
not  of  a  kingdom  only,  but  of  a  family,  who  adminis- 
ters the  affairs  of  his  vast  household,  not  with  the  cold 
precision  of  the  mechanist,  nor  with  the  willful  caprice 
of  a  despot,  but  with  the  thoughtful  interest  and  yearn- 
ing tenderness,  the  faithful  wisdom  of  a  Father's  heart, 
ever  overflowing  in  gentle  ministrations  of  beneficence, 
and  ever  breaking  out  in  sweet  surprises  of  love.  Say, 
O  brother  man !  which  of  these  views  of  God  is  most 
worthy  of  Him?  Which  best  meets  the  needs  and 
longings  of  that  erring,  struggling,  suffering  heart  of 
thine  ?  And  here  before  leaving  this  branch  of  our 
subject,  let  us  compare  briefly  the  views  which  these 
two  systems  present  of  man.  We  will  not  insist  now, 
as  we  might  do,  on  the  manifest  tendency  of  all  forms 
of  naturalism  to  degrade  man  by  sinking  his  genealogy 
in  the  brute,  and  to  make  his  physical  conditions  the 
determining  force  of  his  life.  We  will,  for  the  present, 
assume  that  naturalism  goes  no  further  than  to  deny 
the  need  or  the  application  of  supernatural  agencies  to 
the  redemption  of  man  from  sin,  or,  to  the  promotion 
of  his  spiritual  advancement.  But  consider  what  this 
denial  involves. 

If  there  is  no  supernatural  redemption,  and  no  need 
of  such,  it  follows  that  sin  involves  no  serious  derange- 
ment of  t^e  normal  order  of  existence,  that  the  com- 
mission of  it  involves  the  exercise  of  no  power  of 
liberty  or  self-determination  peculiar  to  mian.  If  there 
is  no  such  power,  appalling  as  it  is,  when  exercised 
in  the  direction  of  evil,  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  there 
can  be  in  the  direction  of  good,  the  possibility  of 
attaining    any     such     elevation   as    will    vindicate    for 


280  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

humanity    any  special    prerogatives  above   the  rest   of 
the  sentient  creation. 

Human  development  being  a  purely  natural  process, 
the  products  of  brain  and  heart  being  but  organic  se- 
cretions of  a  higher  quality,  the  Platonic  philosophy  is 
but  a  more  refined  type  of  the  silkworm  cocoon.  That 
the  Christian  commonwealth  is  but  a  colossal  honey 
comb,  that  the  achievements  of  genius  and  of  heroism 
are  the  offspring  of  one  universal  force  which  rolls  through 
all  things,  which  w^orks  in  the  spider  and  the  serpent, 
the  coward  and  the  knave,  as  well  as  in  the  martyr  and 
the  saint — what  then  ?  All  personal  nobleness  vanishes 
at  once  out  of  human  character,  the  glory  of  the  God- 
like no  longer  crowns  the  life. 

Christianity  on  the  other  hand,  in  recognizing  super- 
natural agencies  among  the  determining  forces  of  man's 
spiritual  history,  recognizes  in  man  something  which 
rises  above  nature,  which  claims  nearer  kinship  to  God, 
which  qualifies  him  to  know  and  to  feel  God  in  loftier 
aspirations,  and  more  intimate  relations  than  those  in 
which  he  can  be  known  or  felt  in  nature.  In  the  view 
which  it  furnishes  of  the  reality  of  human  responsibility 
and  liberty,  of  the  depth  of  humanity's  fall,  of  the  power 
needed  for  its  recovery,  of  the  subordination  of  all  nat- 
ural and  historical  movements  to  the  moral  interests  of 
the  Divine  government,  it  confers  imperishable  dignity 
on  that  manhood,  to  the  spiritual  restoration  and  culture 
of  which  all  the  forces  of  the  Divine  administration  con- 
verge. Recognizing  in  man  the  very  child  of  God,  it 
finds  in  his  powers  affinities  to  the  Divine  powers,  it 
finds  the  Infinite  of  the  Divine  Life  reflected  in  the 
illimitable  of  human  capacity  and  progress,  it  finds  in 
human  perfection  the  spiritual  asymptote  which  ever 
approximates  the  Divine  Perfection,   the  ever  ripening 


SERMONS.  281 

glory  of  a  manhood  nurtured  immediately  by  the  life 
of  Him  in  whose  Infinite  Beauty  is  Infinite  Holiness. 
Naturalism  tells  us  that  Inspiration  is  a  general  and 
perpetual  fact.  It  is  not  limited  to  times  or  persons,  or 
books.  Every  utterance  which  brings  to  light  some 
great  verity,  or  some  important  aspect  of  being  is  a 
revelation.  Every  soul  which  speaks  from  an  original, 
living,  and  powerful  intuition  or  experience  of  beauty, 
goodness,  truth,  is  inspired.  The  Bible  is  a  revelation, 
but  so  are  the  Vedas,  the  Koran,  the  Iliad.  Isaiah, 
Paul,  Jesus,  were  inspired,  but  so  were  Buddha, 
Zoroaster,  Socrates.  God  did  communicate  with  men 
in  Palestine  centuries  ago,  but  so  he  does  in  other  lands 
to-day.  Inspiration  is  not  a  thing  of  the  past.  The  Book 
of  Divine  Revelation  is  not  closed :  and  the  Scriptures  of 
the  Nineteenth  Century  are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be, 
better  and  fuller  than  those  of  the  first.  And  the  nat- 
uralist imagines  that  in  thus  enlarging  the  area,  extend- 
ing the  period,  and  multiplying  the  media  of  inspiration, 
he  dignifies  humanity,  exalts  its  prerogatives,  widens 
its  prospects,  and  magnifies  its  destiny. 

But  is  it  so?  Let  us  admit  the  claims  put  forth  by 
the  opponents  of  supernaturalism,  in  so  far  as  they  are 
of  a  positive  character.  They  tell  us  that  God's  Spirit 
as  the  spirit  of  Truth  is  not  confined  to  Judea,  or  the 
past :  that  he  is  present  with  men  of  all  times  and  of  all 
lands,  unfolding  now  more  clearly  and  now  more  ob- 
scurely the  realities  of  the  Spiritual  Universe,  giving  to 
them  glimpses,  here  brighter  and  there  fainter,  of  the 
Good  that  is  above  them,  the  Life  that  is  beyond  them, 
of  the  Eternity  that  is  around  them,  of  the  God  who 
is  in  all,  and  through  all,  and  over  all :  and  furthermore, 
that  he  raises  from  time  to  time  seers,  prophets, 
teachers,  men  of  refined  spiritual  organization,  of  clari- 
fied vision  and  prevision,  \vhose  souls  thrill  responsively 


282  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

beneath  the  influences  of  the  unseen,  and  throb  with 
the  hfe  of  the  unborn  Future,  and  whose  tongues  are 
tipt  with  heavenly  flame.  Let  us  admit  that,  I  say,  as 
Paul  in  Athens  admitted  it.  Call  those  manifestations 
if  you  please,  revelations :  call  that  enlarged  apprehen- 
sion— inspiration.  We  will  admit  the  fact,  waiving,  for 
the  present,  all  controversy  about  terms.  But  what 
then  ?  Do  we  gain  anything  by  saying  that  there  is 
nothing  more  than  this?  Does  the  m.aterialism  of  the 
world  gain  by  denying  that  amidst  all  the  productions 
which  give  value  to  it,  amidst  all  the  "thoughts  which 
breathe  and  words  which  burn  "  on  the  written  page, 
amidst  all  these,  and  rising  immeasurably  above  all 
these,  there  is  one  word  which  can  be  called — The  Word 
of  God?  Does  the  realm  of  thought  gain  by  denying 
that  amidst  all  the  profound  intuitions,  the  surprising 
discoveries,  the  glowing  exhibitions  of  truth,  amidst  all 
those  sublime  utterances  in  which  we  are  constrained  to 
recognize  the  echoes  of  the  Eternal  Voice,  there  is  one 
Book,  in  whose  utterances  that  Voice  so  unmistakably 
speaks  that  by  it  we  are  enabled  to  test  all  other  utter- 
ances whatsoever — Yea,  not  only  to  test  them,  but  to 
extract  from  them  a  higher  meaning,  to  see  in  them  a 
diviner  beauty  than  would  otherwise  have  appeared  in 
themi? — for  does  anyone  doubt  that  the  Christian  phi- 
losopher of  to-day  finds  in  Plato  greater  depth  and 
beauty  of  thought  than  the  most  gifted  philosopher  of 
Athens?  Does  the  history  of  truth  in  its  progressive 
march  from  age  to  age  gain  by  denying  that  God  or- 
dained aforetimes  a  wonderful  series  of  events  to  be  the 
living  embodiment  and  representation  of  truth,  culmi- 
nating in  a  great  historic  Incarnation  of  The  Truth,  a 
series  of  events  so  unspeakably  sublim.e,  an  Incarnation 
so  mysteriously  and  yet  so  divinely  glorious,  that  the 
special   teachings   of  the  Eternal  Spirit  were  needed  to 


SERMONS.  283 

enable  human  intelligence  rightly  to  apprehend  them, 
and  human  speech  faithfully  to  record  them  for  the  en- 
lightenment of  the  future?  Does  the  conception  of 
humanity's  capabilities  and  prospects  gain  by  denying 
that  the  spirit  of  man  can  be  brought  into  such  accord 
with  the  Spirit  of  God  as  to  be  susceptible  of  perfectly 
receiving  and  transmitting  the  thoughts,  the  purposes, 
and  the  life  of  God  ? 

When  we  say  that  human  intelligence,  insight,  pre- 
vision, can  be  made,  even  now,  the  special  exponents 
of  the  Divine  Thought,  can  even  in  this  world  of  ob- 
scurity and  bewilderment,  in  this  life  of  struggling  and 
doubting,  be  lifted  to  the  realms  of  light  and  calm  and 
certainty,  when  we  point  in  proof  of  this  to  the  Bible, 
to  the  Divine  Power  which  pulsates  in  every  line  of  it, 
to  the  Divine  Beauty  which  shines  on  every  page  of  it, 
to  the  Divine  Fullness  which  bursts  forth  in  every  mes- 
sage of  it,  do  we  thereby  depreciate  the  powers  and 
prospects  of  the  soul?  Nay!  The  doctrine  of  Plenary 
Inspiration,  while  it  takes  naught  away  from  the  great- 
ness and  worth  of  all  other  activities  and  achievements 
of  the  mind,  immeasurably  enhances  our  view  of  the 
sweep  of  its  powers,  of  the  range  of  its  possibilities, 
of  the  altitude  of  its  future  attainments,  by  establishing 
a  communion  between  it  and  the  Eternal  Spirit,  the 
loftiness  and  intimacy  of  which  surpasses  all  that  other- 
wise we  could  have  deemed  possible. 

I  have  discoursed  thus  long  about  this  part  of  our 
subject,  because  the  controversy  between  faith  and  un- 
belief in  our  day,  seems  to  turn  principally  on  the 
opposition  between  naturalism  and  supernaturalism, 
and  because  the  denial  of  the  latter  is  a  bar  at  the  out- 
set to  the  reception  of  any  of  the  distinctive  features  of 
the  Christian  Religion.  I  shall  only  have  time  to  indi- 
cate very  briefly,    some  of   the   results  which  may  be 


284  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

reached  by  applying  the  same  test  to  a  few  of  those 
features,  leaving  it  with  you  to  make  a  wider  and  minuter 
application  for  yourselves. 

Let  us  begin,  then,  with  the  Evangelical  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity.  The  opposite  view  commonly  known  as 
Unitarian  (which  name  I  use  in  its  philosophical,  and 
not  in  its  sectarian  sense,)  establishes  itself  on  the  sim- 
ple and  absolute  unity  of  God.  This  it  sets  forth  as 
the  only  and  total  expression  of  the  constitution  of  the 
Divine  Nature.  According  to  the  Trinitarian  view,  on 
the  contrary,  all  of  a  positive  character  which  Unita- 
tarianism  affirms  of  the  Divine  Unity  is  true,  and  of 
Cardinal  importance,  while  still  further  there  is  a  sense 
in  which  God  is  three,  as  he  is  also  one.  He  is  not 
only  the  Infinite  and  Absolute  One,  he  is  at  the  same 
tim.e,  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit,  these  dis- 
tinctions being  not  nominal,  but  real  and  personal. 

And,  nov/,  which  of  these  two  views  gives  us  the 
fullest,  most  comprehensive,  and  satisfactory  concep- 
tion of  the  Deity?  Let  me  direct  your  attention 
simply  by  way  of  illustration,  to  one  or  two  connec- 
tions in  which  the  superiority  of  the  Evangelical  view 
is,  to  my  mind,  strikingly  manifest. 

Have  you  not  often  found  yourself  striving  to  con- 
ceive the  existence  of  God,  when  he  was  as  yet  alone  ? 
And  have  you  not  found  something  appalling,  some- 
thing oppressive  in  the  thought  of  that  Infinite  and 
Eternal  solitude  in  which  the  naked  conception  of  the 
Divine  Unity  compels  you  to  place  God?  Do  you 
wonder,  then,  in  all  heathen  religions,  and  in  all  sys- 
tems of  thought  outside  of  Christianity,  the  mind  of 
man  shrinks  from  regarding  Eternity  as  the  abode  of  a 
solitary  personality,  and  has  preferred  filling  it  either 
with  some  impersonal  attraction,  some  neutral  Force, 
some   Nothing   of  which  it  could  just  be  said  that  it 


SERM0N3.  285 

was,  some  Infinite  TJiat,  as  the  Hindu  calls  it,  some 
To  Auto,  as  even  Plato  is  betrayed  into  designating  it, 
or  else  with  an  endless  series  of  theogonies,  or  suc- 
cession of  changes  ?  What  relief  from  that  oppression 
is  there  except  in  the  doctrine  revealed  through  Christ, 
that  from  Eternity  God  was  there,  that  from  everlast- 
ing, Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  lived  together  in  ineffable 
and  blissful  intercommunion  ?  How  is  it  again  when 
you  think  of  God  in  his  relations  to  the  mind  ?  First 
of  all  you  find  yourself  under  the  necessity  of  think- 
ing of  Him  as  the  Great  First  Cause.  Your  intellect 
demands  this  solution  of  the  problem  of  creation.  But 
does  this  satisfy  you  ?  No !  You  want  to  find  God  in 
Nature.  You  do  not  want  to  feel  that  nature  stands 
between  you  and  God,  that  he  is  behind  it,  back  of  all 
its  movements  and  powers,  but  that  he  is  here,  now. 
You  feel  all  the  time  that  the  conception  of  a  mere 
First  Cause  fades  away  into  an  abstraction,  something 
far  away  from  you,  vague,  impersonal,  intangible.  You 
want  a  conception  of  the  Deity,  which  will  assure  you 
not  only  that  God  made  all  things,  but  that  he  is  the 
life  of  all,  the  spirit  who  encourages  all.  But  are  you 
satisfied  yet?  No!  You  find  that  this  conception  of 
a  Universal  Spirit  filling  all  things,  tends  to  diffuse  it- 
self into  a  generality  scarcely  less  vague  than  the 
former.  You  feel  yourself  drifting  into  pantlieism,  the 
conception  of  a  God  who  is  everything.  You  want 
still  further,  the  conception  of  a  God  who  comes  forth 
out  of  himself,  revealing  himself  as  a  distinct,  real, 
historic  personality.  Such  is  the  view  of  God  which 
the  Christian  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  gives  you. 

It  reveals  God  as  the  Cause,  the  Life  and  the  Law 
of  the  universe :  God  the  Father,  creating  all  things ; 
God  the  Spirit,  animating  all  things;  God  the  Son, 
the  Logos,  legislating  and  ruling  all  things,  in  whom, 


286  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

as  the  Incarnate  Word,  the  true  personahty  of  the 
Godhead  is  most  fully  manifested.  Here  the  mind  is 
satisfied.  It  has  a  revelation  of  the  Deity  in  which,  it 
can  rest,  secure  from  those  negative,  vague,  mechanical 
extremes,  into  which  more  partial  views  almost  certainly 
lead. 

Let  us  rise  still  higher  to  the  moral  life  of  the  Deity. 
The  Fatherhood  of  God:  where  should  we  find  the 
best  evidence  of  that?  Shall  we  look  to  Nature?  Its 
testimony  is  enigmatic,  fragmentary  and  confused. 
Shall  we  appeal  to  Providence  ?  Its  witness  is  all  but 
drowned  in  the  thousandfold  wail  of  earth's  discords 
and  woe.  Shall  we  listen  to  the  voices  of  the  heart? 
Conscience  burdened  with  guilt  and  trembling  with 
forebodings,  speaks  louder  than  the  heart.  No  !  if  you 
would  be  assured  that  God  is  indeed  the  Father,  you 
must  betake  yourself  to  the  testimony  which  assures 
you  that  from  eternity  his  heart  throbbed  with  the  love 
of  his  only  begotten,  the  brightness  of  his  glory,  and 
the  express  image  of  his  person.  Nor  is  this  all  which 
this  testimony  makes  known  to  you.  It  tells  you  of  a 
Spirit  proceeding  from  the  Father,  by  the  Son,  who  is 
given  to  those  who  believe,  and  who  being  received  by 
them  makes  them  the  sons  of  God.  The  Eternal  Father, 
the  Eternal  Son,  the  Eternal  Spirit  of  Sonship — this  is 
the  threefold  testimony  on  which  we  rest  our  faith  in 
the  Divine  Fatherhood,  Take-  it  away  and  will  not  this 
precious  truth  lose  its  most  sure  witness? 

The  Love  of  God !  do  you  wish  to  comprehend  its 
breadth  and  depth  and  length  and  height?  Where  then 
will  you  find  its  highest  expression  ?  The  test  of  human 
love  is  sacrifice,  the  sacrifice  of  self.  Does  not  your 
heart  cry  out  for  some  testimony  of  the  Divine  Love, 
as  full,  as  deep,  as  tender,  as  that  which  human  love 
gives  when  it  sacrifices  itself  for  another?    But  think  of 


SERMONS.  287 

it!  God  making  a  sacrifice, — and  that  sacrifice  Himself, 
is  that  conceivable  ?  Take  away  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity,  and  tlie  conception  is  impossible.  He  makes 
the  sacrifice — do  you  say?  but  how,  to  whom?  There 
must  be  One  to  accept  it,  One  to  represent  those  infi- 
nite interests  of  Love  and  Justice,  to  satisfy  which  the 
sacrifice  is  made,  and  to  declare  its  suflficiency.  There 
must  be  One  again  to  authenticate  it  again  to  us,  to  seal 
it,  make  it  efficacious,  secure  its  benefits  to  those  for 
whom  it  was  made,  and  this  is  what  the  Gospel  reveals 
to  us. 

"  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away  the 
sin  of  the  world!"  This  is  the  sacrifice, — God's  Lamb  ! 
"This  is  my  beloved  Son  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased." 
This  is  the  acceptance  of  the  sacrifice.  "God  so  loved 
the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son."  "The 
Son  of  Man  came  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many." 
This  is  the  Love  which  ordains,  and  the  Love  which  makes 
the  sacrifice.  "The  love  of  God  shed  abroad  in  our 
hearts,  through  the  Holy  Ghost  that  is  given  unto  us." 
This  is  the  Love  in  its  blessed  human  consummation. 
The  Father's  love,  the  Son's  love,  the  Spirit's  love — 
Behold  the  love  of  God  which  passeth  knov/ledge ! 

A  hint  or  two  in  regard  to  the  wonderful  suggest- 
iveness  of  the  Christian  Doctrine  of  God's  Incarnation 
in  Christ.  "The  Word  was  God."  "The  Word  was 
made  flesh."  How  simple!  how  sublime!  For  ages 
philosophy  has  busied  itself  with  the  contradiction  be- 
tween Eternity  and  Time,  attempting  their  reconcilia- 
tion, and  failing  in  that,  denying  either  their  reality,  or 
the  possibility  of  their  reconciliation.  The  Incarnation 
silences  this  contradiction  at  once  and  forever.  "Unto 
us  a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a  Son  is  given  ;  and  his 
name  shall  be  called  the  Mighty  God,  the  Father  of 
Eternity."     What  a  view  does  it  give  us  of  the  Power 


288  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

of  God !  He,  who  was  in  tlie  form  of  God,  and  the 
equal  of  God,  empties  himself:  He  whose  life  v/e  call  infi- 
nite, because,  in  the  poverty  of  thought  and  language, 
we  can  not  tell  what  it  is,  only  that  it  is  not  finite.  He 
enters  into  the  conditions  and  limitations  of  this  little 
life  of  ours.  God  can  do  that!  What  greater  mani- 
festation of  power  is  conceivable? 

What  a  revelation  does  this  doctrine  give  us  of  the 
Moral  Life  of  God  !  He  who  gives  the  law,  appears 
wider  the  law.  He  whom  all  laws  obey,  becomes  obe- 
dient, even  unto  death.  The  King  of  all,  is  the  serv- 
ant of  all,  and  reigns  through  serving.  "Whosoever 
will  be  chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant,  even 
as  the  Son  of  Man  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but 
to  minister."  How  many  are  these  infinite  contrasts  we 
find  in  the  Incarnate  Son  of  God,  so  wonderful  and  yet 
so  needful  for  the  intellect,  the  conscience,  the  heart! 
The  Hearer  of  Prayer — the  Man  of  Prayer!  The 
Author  and  Finisher  of  Faith. 

Example  of  Faith  :  All  victorious  strength — the  sym- 
pathy of  human  tears  !  Divine  Blessedness — the  Agony 
of  Blood  !  The  Glory  of  the  Father — the  Cross  of 
shame!  The  Fulness  of  the  Godhead — the  First-born 
among  many  brethren  ! 

"  Most  human  and  yet  most  Divine 
The  flower  of  man  and  God." 

Above  all,  who  can  measure  the  significance  and 
power  of  that  great  central  fact  in  the  Incarnate  Life 
of  the  Son  of  God,  the  atoning  Sacrifice  of  Calvary? 
Is  there  in  the  world  any  knowledge  of  the  Purity  and 
Justice  of  God,  of  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin,  of 
the  inviolability  of  God's  law,  of  the  worth  of  the  soul, 
of  the  magnitude  of  redemption,  of  the  immensity  of 
Divine  Love?  It  comes  from  the  cross.  That  which 
makes  sin   a  fact  of  such   terrible    import,  is   that   tlic 


SERMONS.  289 

Son  of  God  must  die  to  remove  its  guilt  and  power. 
That  v/hich  makes  the  Law  divinely  sacred,  is  that 
Christ  laid  down  his  life  to  honor  and  to  establish  it. 
That  v/hich  makes  holiness  authoritative  and  supreme  in 
the  realm  of  moral  obligation,  is  the  manifold  sanction 
v/hich  it  receives  from  the  dying  obedience  of  the  Sav- 
ior. That  which  makes  manhood  of  priceless  worth, 
is  that  its  price  was  the  blood  of  Golgotha.  That 
which  invests  life  with  awful  solemnity,  is  that  Christ 
has  entered  into  his  struggles,  and  made  victory  pos- 
sible. That  which  confers  honor  and  immortality  in 
the  imperishable  deeds  of  self-sacrificing  heroism,  is 
that  they  faintly  reflect  the  deed  and  breathe  the  spirit 
of  him  who  sacrificed  himself  for  the  world.  That 
which  makes  Divine  Love  ineffably  sweet  and  precious, 
is  that  it  comes  to  man  through  a  gift  which  cost  the 
Father's  heart  infinitely.  That  which  makes  known  to 
us  the  intense  reality  and  earnestness  of  the  life  of 
God,  is  that  its  yearnings  and  purposes  find  their 
divinest  issue  in  the  Cross.  That  which  gives  to  the 
history  of  our  fallen  humanity  its  divine  solution,  that 
which  makes  its  miserere  anything  but  the  wail  of  de- 
lirium, that  which  makes  its  immortality  aught  but  a 
grand  Perhaps,  is  the  light  of  the  Cross. 

In  the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory, 

Towering  o'er  the  wrecks  of  time, 

All  the  light  of  sacred  story 

Gathers  round  His  head  sublime. 


XIII. 

NOT  RICH  TOWARD  GOD. 

Luke  12:  16-21.  "And  he  spake  a  pnrahle  unto  them,  saying;  The  ground 
of  a  certain  rich  man  brought  forth  plentifully.  And  he  thou>,'ht  within  himself, 
saying:  What  shall  I  do,  because  I  have  no  room  where  to  bestow  my  fruits? 
And  he  said,  This  will  I  do:  I  will  pull  dov/n  my  barns  and  build  greater;  and 
there  wdl  I  bestow  all  my  fruits  and  my  goods.  And  I  will  say  to  my  soul:  Soul, 
thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  many  years  ;  take  thine  ease,  cat,  drink,  and  be 
merry.  But  God  said  unto  him,  I'hou  Fool  :  this  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required 
of  thee,  then  whose  shall  these  things  be  which  thou  hast  provided?  So  is  he  that 
layeth  up  treasure  for  himself,  and  is  not  rich  toward  God." 

"So  is  he"— such  his  condition,  such  the  prospects 
before  him.  Ruin  stares  him  in  the  face.  His  invest- 
ments are  worthless.  The  hour  is  at  hand  when  he  will 
lift  up  his  eyes  in  a  state  of  utter  and  eternal  destitu- 
tion. He  thinks  he  is  rich,  and  lo !  he  is  a  beggar. — 
He  says  to  his  soul,  thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up  for 
many  years,  and  one  night  finds  him  stripped  of  every- 
thing. There  must  have  been  a  tremendous  mistake 
somewhere.  How  did  he  come  to  commit  such  a  fatal 
blunder?  Christ  explains  the  matter:  "So  is  he  that 
layeth  up  treasure  for  himself,  and  is  not  rich  toward 
God."  Not,  observe,  because  he  layeth  up  treasure, 
but  because  he  lays  it  up  for  himself.  Not  because  he 
is  rich  in  fruits  and  goods,  but  because  he  is  not  rich 
toward  God. 

Christ  then  does  not  prohibit  all  seeking  after  riches, 

He  does  not  forbid  the  acquisition  of  earthly  property, 

within  certain  limits,    under  certain  conditions,  and  for 

certain  ends.      He    docs    not  disapprove  the  efforts  of 

(290) 


SERMONS.  291 

any  to  secure  an  indeiDendent  competence,  to  make 
provision  for  the  future,  against  sickness,  reverses,  and 
old  age.  He  does  not  say  that  it  is  wrong  to  grow 
rich,  or  that  the  rich  cannot  be  saved,  although  he 
does  say  that  a  rich  man  shall  hardly  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  and  that  it  is  easier  for  a  camel  to 
go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich  man 
to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God,  And  if  Christ  said 
this,   we  may  be  sure  he  meant  this. 

Furthermore,  if  it  was  true  when  he  said  it,  it  is  true 
to-day.  At  the  same  time  Christ  does  not  blame  men 
for  being  rich,  nor  for  becoming  rich.  It  is  not  for 
having  this,  that,  or  the  other  that  he  holds  them 
guilty,  but  for  not  having  that  which  is  indispensable: 
not  for  seeking  after  other  things,  but  for  not  seeking 
first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  His  righteousness.  That 
which  determines  the  right  and  wrong  of  the  matter  is 
the  motive,  the  end  in  view.  Do  you  seek  to  become 
rich  toward  God  ?  Then  there  is  nothing  which  you 
may  not  strive  to  acquire  and  to  make  your  own. 
''All  things  are  yours."  Do  you  lay  up  treasure  for 
yourself?     God  says  to  you,  "Thou  fool!" 

The  character  of  the  rich  man  spoken  of  in  the  .para- 
ble, is  by  no  means  an  uncommon  one.  There  is 
nothing  said  about  him  which  requires  us  to  suppose 
that  he  was  avaricious,  that  he  v/as  what  m.en  call  a 
miser.  He  does  not  seem,  to  have  been  of  a  grasping 
disposition.  It  does  not  appear  that  he  cheated  any- 
body. He  did  not  grind  the  poor,  and  wring  his  wealth 
out  of  their  sweat  and  groans —  indeed  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  suppose  that  in  the  pursuit  of  gain  he  put  forth 
any  extraordinary  degree  of  ardor  and  energy.  He 
seems  to  have  been  rather  a  happy-go-lucky — a  lover 
of  ease,  enjoyment,  and  good  living.  He  was  fortunate, 
unexpectedly  so.      His  ground  brought  forth  plentifully, 


292  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

SO  that  he  had  no  room  where  to  bestow  his  fruits. 
Naturally  he  resolved  to  build  new  barns,  and  larger 
ones,  and  thereupon  he  seems  to  have  been  satisfied. 
He  was  not  consumed  apparently  with  that  feverish  desire 
for  more,  like  the  leech  which  can  never  say — enough. 
He  made  up  his  mind  to  enjoy  his  unexpected  pros- 
perity. It  was  not  his  purpose  either  to  hoard  up  his 
riches,  to  brood  over  them,  or  to  consume  them  in  sol- 
itary enjoyment.  He  meant  to  share  them  with  others. 
He  was  what  the  world  calls  a  generous  man,  a  good 
fellow.  He  would  fill  his  house  with  delicacies  and 
luxuries,  load  his  table  with  the  daintiest  of  dishes,  and 
the  choicest  of  wines,  and  entertain  his  friends  with 
princely  cheer,  and  one  unceasing  round  of  merry-mak- 
ing. "Soul,  thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  many 
years,  take  thine  ease,  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry." 

Such  an  one  the  world  is  ever  inclined  to  judge 
leniently.  It  admires  him,  it  applauds  him,  it  welcomes 
him  to  its  most  favored  circles;  even  when  it  blames 
him  it  is  so  tenderly,  with  a  tongue  so  sugared  with  flat- 
tery, and  with  a  look  so  evidently  dazzled  by  the  qual- 
ities which  it  admires,  as  to  leave  it  doubtful  whether 
after  all  its  blame  is  not  most  eloquent  of  praise.  And 
this  is  the  man  whom  God  charges  with  folly.  To  this 
pet  of  society,  this  favorite  of  fortune,  revelling  in  riches 
and  luxury,  bountifully  dispensing  hospitality,  surround- 
ing himself  with  all  that  can  minister  delight  to  sense, 
taste,  and  sociability,  God  says — "Thou  fool!  this 
night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  thee,  then  whose 
shall  those  things  be  which  thou  hast  provided?" 

Now  it  is  true  that  Christ  presents  to  us  here  a  spe- 
cial case,  what  we  may  call,  perhaps,  an  extreme  case. 
He  would  put  before  us,  in  most  startling  light,  the 
folly  of  living  even  for  a  day,  as  though  this  life,  this 
world   were  all.     He  represents  to  us  a  man   who    is 


SERMONS.  293 

taken  away  from  his  riches  just  as  he  is  preparing  to 
enjoy  them.  The  cup  of  his  prosperity  has  just  been 
filled,  he  is  just  raising  it  to  his  lips,  when  it  is  dashed 
from  his  hand  by  death.  "This  night  thy  soul  shall 
be  required  of  thee."  That  one  who  was  on  the  verge 
of  eternity,  who  had  not  another  day  to  live,  should 
abandon  himself  to  selfish  enjoyment,  was,  indeed,  the 
height  of  folly.  Most  people  would  admit  that,  but  is 
that  all  you  see  in  the  case  ?  Was  it  simply  the  fact 
that  the  shadow  of  death  was  already  on  his  threshold 
that  made  this  man  a  fool  ?  Did  he  show  any  more 
folly  in  promising  himself  many  years'  enjoyment  than 
thousands  of  others  all  about  him  ?  Has  any  one  here 
a  better  right  to  say  what  he  said,  than  he  had  ?  Have 
you  a  surer  claim  on  the  future?  Is  it  any  wiser  in 
you  to  neglect  the  acquisition  of  imperishable  riches, 
to  put  it  off  for  a  single  day,  than  it  was  in  him  ?  Ob- 
serve— he  did  not  promise  himself  endless  enjoyment  of 
his  possesions.  What  he  said  to  his  soul  was:  "Thou 
hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  many  years."  He  did 
not  say  '^forever."  He  knew  there  would  be  an  end 
of  enjoying  those  things.  We  are  at  liberty  to  suppose, 
at  least,  that  he  meant  at  some  time  to  secure  treasures 
more  lasting. 

That  time  never  came  to  him.  It  may  never  come 
to  you.  Certain  it  is  that  to  multitudes  of  those  who 
say:  "I  hope  to  be  a  Christian  sometime,"  that  some- 
time never  comes.  God  says  to-day.  For  man  to  say 
to-morrow,  is  unspeakable  folly. 

Well,  suppose  that  this  rich  man  had  realized  all  the 
enjoyment  which  he  prom.ised  himself.  Suppose  that 
instead  of  dying  just  as  he  was  raising  the  cup  to  his 
lips,  he  had  drained  it  and  had  then  died — would  his 
folly  have  been  any  the  less?  Would  those  many 
years  of  luxurious  pleasure  have  made  an  eternity  of 


294  LLEWELYN   lOAN  EVANS. 

poverty  any  the  more  endurable?  Would  they  not  the 
rather  have  made  it  more  bitter  and  wretched?  But, 
you  say,  he  might  have  repented !  The  probabiHties 
are  all  against  it.  Think  of  it !  Ten  or  twenty  years 
of  such  living  as  he  anticipated — what  would  have  been 
the  result  of  it?  It  would  have  enfeebled  his  moral 
constitution  yet  more  ;  it  would  have  stupefied  his 
conscience,  paralyzed  his  will,  confirmed  the  power  of 
evil  habit,  crushed  yet  more  completely  all  capacity  for 
earnest  thought  or  endeavor,  rendered  infinitely  more 
difficult  the  task  of  bursting  the  fetters  of  sense,  of 
shattering  the  power  of  the  world,  of  breaking  with 
the  past,  of  giving  up  the  present,  and  of  laying  hold 
on  Eternal  Life. 

While  the  means  of  enjoyment  lasted,  think  you  that 
he  would  have  stopped  his  career?  When  these  were 
gone,  and  with  them,  perhaps,  the  capacity  of  enjoy- 
ment, think  you  that  in  that  vacant  sense  of  desolation 
that  would  have  followed,  in  that  dreary  torpor,  that 
bitter  exhaustion,  that  writhing  of  the  heart  which 
succeeds  a  career  of  self-indulgence,  there  would  have 
been  much  power  or  disposition  left  for  anything  bet- 
ter? Oh,  it  is  a  great  mistake — unspeakable  folly  to 
promise  to  God  the  last  remnant  of  your  life,  the  fag- 
end  of  your  manhood,  when,  perhaps,  there  will  not 
be  enough  left  to  make  a  change  possible. 

Or  suppose  that  instead  of  abandoning  himself  to  an 
epicurean  life,  he  had  devoted  himself  to  business,  to 
the  pursuit  of  gain  or  power,  had  entered  on  a  public 
career,  had  bought  more  land,  or  solicited  honors  or 
preferments,  and  served  himself  in  that  way,  w^ould  he 
have  shown  much  more  wisdom  ?  Some  things,  it  is 
true,  might  be  said  in  favor  of  such  a  life,  which  could 
not  be  said  in  favor  of  mere  pleasure. 

We  are  supposing,  however,  that  his  motive,  his  pur- 


SERMONS,  295 

pose  is  still  as  before  a  selfish  one,  that  he  simply  laid 
up  treasure  for  self,  without  growing  rich  toward  God. 
Would  he  have  been  any  the  less  a  fool  in  the  estimate 
of  God  ?  So  long  as  a  man  is  heaping  up  only  perish- 
able treasures  does  it  make  much  difference  what  they 
are?  Diamonds  or  bits  of  common  charcoal,  does  it 
make  much  difference  which,  when  the  fire  gets  hold  of 
them  ?  But  suppose,  last  of  all,  that  the  man  instead  of 
being  rich,  had  been  in  moderate  circumstances,  or  even 
poor,  but  had  still  been  governed  by  the  same  spirit. 
For  it  is  not  indispensable  that  a  man  should  be  rich  in 
order  to  be  worldly.  It  is  not  money  of  itself,  nor  the 
making  of  money  of  itself,  that  produces  selfishness. 
A  miserly  heart  often  lives  in  a  lean  purse.  A  self-in- 
dulgent will  may  lurk  under  a  tattered  coat,  as  well  as 
under  purple  and  fine  linen.  If  the  man  then,  of  whom 
Christ  speaks,  had  only  desired  to  be  rich,  without 
actually  becoming  such,  if  he  had  only  coveted  money, 
without  getting  much  of  it,  if  he  had  set  his  highest 
affections  on  the  world,  without  acquiring  a  great  deal 
of  it,  would  he  not  have  incurred  the  stern  condemna- 
tion of  God  just  the  same  ?  The  man  who  loves  the 
world  supremely,  whether  he  gets  much  or  little  of  it, 
the  man  who  lives  only  in  the  present,  whose  best  life 
is  that  which  now  is,  who,  when  death  strips  him  of 
the  things  of  time,  has  nothing  left  him,  who,  when  he 
is  left  alone  with  God,  has  nothing  in  God  that  he  can 
call  his  own,  that  man  God  calls  a  fool.  He  has  delib- 
erately refused  or  carelessly  neglected  to  secure  the 
only  true  riches,  and  when  his  soul  is  required  of  him 
he  parts  from  his  all. 

The  lesson  taught  by  these  words  of  Christ  then  is 
not  for  a  few,  not  for  a  class,  but  for  us  all.  It  is  for 
the  poor  as  well  as  for  the  rich,  for  the  unsuccessful  as 
well  as  for  the    prosperous,  for  the  man  of  business  as 


296  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

well  as  for  the  devotee  of  pleasure,  for  him  who  expects 
a  long  life,  as  well  as  for  him  from  whom  death  can  not 
be  far  off;  for  every  one  who  is  in  danger  of  choosing 
the  transitory  for  the  eternal,  the  corruptible  for  the 
imperishable,  earth  for  God..  And  who  is  not  in  danger 
of  making  this  choice  ?  We  know  it  to  be  folly,  and 
yet  how  easily  we  fall  into  it !  For  consider  how  near 
these  things  of  time  seem  to  ourselves.  They  lie  at  our 
feet,  at  our  fingers'  ends,  all  about  us.  They  seem  so 
near  to  us  that  that  which  lies  beyond  can  only  be  reached 
apparently  by  breaking  through  them,  or  thrusting  them 
from  us: — seem  near,  I  say: — but  after  all  they  are  far 
off:  although  we  touch  and  feel  and  handle  them  every 
day,  there  is  still  an  immeasurable  distance  between  them 
and  us,  as  there  is  between  the  perishable  and  the 
Eternal,  for  nothing  is  near  to  the  soul  of  man  which  it 
can  not  take  up  into  itself,  and  make  a  part  of  itself 

And  yet  the  fact  that  they  ^(C  seem  so  near  to  us  prompts 
us  continually  to  reach  forth  our  hands  to  grasp  them,  as 
children  stretch  out  their  hands  to  clutch  at  the  moon, 
which  seems  so  near,  but  which  is  yet  so  far.  And  be- 
cause these  worldly  treasures  seem  so  near  to  us,  so  they 
seem  also  much  easier  to  get: — seem,  I  say  here  again: 
for  in  truth  nothing  is  harder  to  get,  nothing  is  so  hard 
to  make  our  own  :  nay,  we  can  not  make  them  ours 
fully  and  forever:  no  one  ever  has  made  them  his:  no 
one  ever  will  make  them  his :  a  man  may  have  a  legal 
right  to  them  which  none  will  dare  dispute,  he  may 
brood  over  them  day  and  night,  he  may  use  them  in 
every  possible  way,  and  get  out  of  them  all  the  profit 
and  utility  there  is  in  them,  and  still  they  won't  be  his, 
for  nothing  is  trul}^  mine  which  I  can  not  in  some  way 
make  a  part  of  myself,  and  treasure  up  in  the  very 
core  of  my  being,  and  I  can  treasure  nothing  up  there 
which    is   not  Godlike,  which  has  not  some  affinity  to 


SERMONS.  297 

the  life,  the  will,  the  heart  of  God.  For  the  soul  of  a 
man's  soul  is  the  life  of  God  within  him.  If  that  hfe 
be  wanting  the  man  is  dead.  It  is  only  when  you  have 
laid  aside  one  after  another,  the  folds  which  envelop 
the  life,  the  sensations,  experiences,  opinions,  feelings, 
habits,  all  the  accretions  which  gather  about  you  from 
without,  only  when  you  have  pierced  to  the  center,  to 
the  spirit,  and  only  when  in  that  spirit  you  find  the 
Spirit  of  God,  that  you  find  your  true  self.  Nothing 
will  endure  then,  nothing  will  be  yours  forever  which 
you  can  not  make  a  part  of  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul. 
The  mian  who  has  the  Spirit  of  God  dwelling  wdthin 
him,  in  whom  a  Divine  life  is  the  essential  life  of  his 
manhood,  who  in  all  his  acquirements  enlarges  and  en- 
riches that  life,  who  ever  lives  in  God  and  for  God, 
a  life  of  sympathy,  communion  and  co-operation  with 
God,  that  man  is  rich,  and  he  alone.  That  man  is  v/ise 
and  he  alone.  He  has  that  which  death  can  not  take 
away  from  him,  which  he  can  carry  into  eternity,  and 
to  which  he  can  add  and  add  forever.  He  who  is  without 
this  has  nothing,  and  for  him  death  is  loss,  eternity  is 
endless  bankruptcy  and  beggary.  "To  him  that  hath 
shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  more  abundantly,  and 
from  him  that  hath  not  shall  be  taken  away  even  that 
he  hath."  The  one  layeth  up  treasure  toward  God  and 
is  rich,  the  other  layeth  up  treasure  for  himself,  and  is 
poor. 

The  question  then  is,  what  is  our  treasure  ?  How  do 
we  lay  it  up  ?  What  are  we  living  for  ?  What  is  the 
life  we  are  living?  Ask  your  own  heart,  my  hearer,  these 
questions.  There  are  not  a  few,  I  suppose,  in  this  com- 
munity, as  in  every  other,  who  live  for  money.  You 
are  one  of  these  perhaps.  If  you  are  honest  Vv'ith  your- 
self, this  is  the  answer  which  comes  from  your  heart: 
"  I  am  living  to  make    money."     At  least  that   is  the 


298  LLEWELYN    lOAN   EVANS. 

case  at  this  present  time.    It  may  not  be  so  always,  you 
think,  but  it  is  so,  you  admit,  now.     Money  is  the  most 
desirable   acquisition  which   you    can    make  just   now. 
You  have  been  carried  along  by  the  current,  you  have 
taken  your  place  in  the  arena  of  competition.     You  are 
doing  just  what  the  rest  who  are  about  you  are  doing. 
As  a  business  man  you  are  constrained  by  the  necessi- 
ties of  your  position,  by  a  feeling  of  personal  pride,  by 
the  influence   of  the  atmosphere  which  you  are  daily 
breathing,  by  the  interests  of  your  family,  and  by  other 
influences  to  devote   all  your  energies  to  the  purposes 
in  which  you  are  engaged,  and  to  the  immediate  end 
which  you  have  in  view.     Without  examining  now  in 
detail  the  life  which  you  are  living,  without  considering 
your  manner  of  conducting  your  business,  or  the  business 
itself,  or  the  amount  of  time  which  you  devote  to  it,  let 
us  admit  in  general  that  so  far  there  is  nothing  absolutely 
wrong  about  your  way  of  life.     Business  is  legitimate, 
of  course.      Skill,  enterprise,  success  in  business  are  le- 
gitimate objects  of  ambition.     But  the  question  is,  what 
is  all  this  for  ?     Where  does  it  all  end  ?     All  this  plan- 
ning, toiling,   driving,  what  does  it  come  to?     It  puts 
money  into  your  purse,   does  it  put   anything  in  your 
soul?     It  procures  for  yourself  and  your  family  more  of 
the  comforts,  it  may  be  of  the  luxuries,  of  life,  it  adds 
to  your  influence  and  consideration  in  the  community, 
it  enables  you  to  respond  more  honorably  and  worthily 
to  the  appeals  which   are  made   to   your  liberality  and 
public   spirit  —  and  —  is    that    all?     Oh!    brother — that 
should  not  be  all.     There  ought  to  be  more — infinitely 
more  than  that.     When  you  and  your  money  part  com- 
pany, when  you    are  taken   av>  r.y  from  all   that  it  has 
gathered   around  you,   when    money    can    do    nothing 
for    you,  —  what    then  ?      When    the    life   which    you 
are    now    living   stops,   as    stop    it    must, — what  then? 


SERMONS.  299 

What  will  you  have,  what  can  you  do,  in  what  can  you 
take  pleasure  in  a  world  where  the  only  business  known 
is  the  service  of  God,  where  the  only  riches  that  are 
worth  anything  are  the  rewards  of  that  service  ? 

There  is  such  a  thing  as  serving  God  in  business. 
"You  can  not  serve  God  and  Mammon,"  but  you  can 
constrain  Mammon,  you  can  compel  the  v/orld  into  the 
service  of  God,  There  is  such  a  thing  as  making 
money,  not  for  self,  but  for  God,  and  that  is  the  only 
way  to  get  out  of  money  whatever  good  there  is  in  it. 
The  man  who  lives  to  God  is  the  only  man  who  can 
make  the  most  of  all  that  God  gives  him.  The  man 
who  says  of  himself — "  I  am  God's!  "  and  who  says  of 
everything  that  he  has  and  of  everything  that  he  gets 
— "This  is  God's,"  and  who  says  of  everything  which 
he  does — "I  am  doing  God's  work:"  he  is  the  only 
man  whose  life  can  be  anything  but  a  failure,  a  total 
loss.  If  business  is  making  your  heart  better,  if  your 
daily  pursuits  are  ennobling  your  manhood,  deepening, 
enlarging,  enriching  the  life  of  God  within,  if  in  forming 
all  your  plans  and  carrying  out  all  your  enterprises,  you 
are  acting  as  God's  steward,  as  Christ's  agent,  if  you  re- 
joice in  every  success  which  crowns  your  plans,  and  in 
every  acquisition  that  you  make,  because  you  will  be 
able  to  do  more  for  God.  If  you  are  so  living  that  you 
have  reason  to  believe  that  God  is  preparing,  training 
you  for  a  higher  life  hereafter — then  you  are  growing 
rich  toward  God :  —  then  when  you  part  from  your 
money  you  will  lose  nothing,  for  you  still  have  and  will 
carry  with  you  into  eternity  all  the  spiritual  good  that 
the  acquisition  and  use  of  money  could  bring  you,  all 
those  holy  habits  and  devout  dispositions,  all  that  conse- 
cration of  spirit ;  all  that  community  of  heart  and  life  with 
God,  which  when  perfected  and  glorified  make  heaven. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  are  laying  up  money  for 


300  LLEWELYN    lOAN   EVANS. 

yourself,  if  you  are  seeking  and  using  it  only  for  self- 
gratification;  if  you  are  investing  it  only  in  fleeting  en- 
joyments, in  things  which  are  good  only  for  time,  you 
are  laying  up  for  yourself  eternal  poverty.  "He  that 
soweth  unto  the  flesh,"  he  that  liveth  unto  self— 
"shall  of  the  flesh  reap  corruption,"  he  shall  find  all 
his  labors  resulting  in  rottenness,  "but  he  that  soweth 
to  the  spirit  shall  of  the  spirit  reap  life  everlasting."' 

Let  us  just  glance  at  some  of  the  other  ends  for 
which  many  of  you  are  living,  treasures,  perhaps,  of  a 
less  earthly  character,  which  you  regard  as  more  valu- 
able, and  which  you  fondly  hope  may  prove  more  last- 
ing than  silver  and  gold.  Take,  for  example,  esteem, 
good  will,  the  praise  of  others.  This  is  an  object  which 
may  be  legitimately  sought  after,  and  it  has  two  uses. 
One  is  to  please  the  recipient,  to  gratify  his  feelings,  to 
increase  his  individual  happiness;  the  other  is  to  make 
him  watchful  over  his  character,  to  incite  him  to  render 
himself  worthy  of  the  respect  and  praise  of  others,  to 
confirm  and  encourage  him  in  the  right,  to  be  a  wit- 
ness to  the  approbation  of  God.  If,  now,  a  man  seeks 
praise  only  for  its  former  uses,  only  for  the  present  self- 
gratification  which  it  ministers,  he  seeks  that  which  is 
perishable.  Think  of  that  man's  life!  You  feel  at 
once  there  can  be  nothing  solid  about  it.  The  man 
who  does  everything  only  to  be  seen  and  to  be  praised 
of  men,  is  far  from  being  the  most  admirable  character, 
judging  even  by  the  standard  of  the  world.  His  life 
is  a  perpetual  compromise  with  popular  favor.  It  is  a 
standing  bid  for  applause.  His  character  is  mere  var- 
nish. His  virtues  are  hollow  plausibilities.  There  is 
nothing  in  him  that  will  stand  the  trial,  nothing  heroic, 
nothing  Christlike,  nothing  that  will  bear  the  mockery, 
the  spitting,  the  crown  of  thorns,  the  shame  of  the 
cross.      The  world  may  speak  highly  of  him,   society 


SERMONS.  30 1 

may  flatter  him,  history  even  may  trumpet  his  praise, 
and — verily,  he  hath  his  reward.  But  there  is  a  higher 
court,  which  judges  not  according  to  appearance,  a 
judge  who  requires  truth  in  the  inward  parts,  who  de- 
mands the  love  of  right  as  right,  who  enjoins  devotion 
to  truth,  virtue,  holiness,  for  their  own  sake,  who 
honors  only  those  who  honor  Him,  and  who  seeks  first 
his  glory.  When  that  man  appears  at  the  bar  of  Eter- 
nity in  presence  of  the  Searcher  of  Hearts,  what  will 
he  have  to  show  ?  What  honor  remain  for  him  v/hom 
God  dishonors  ?  What  sweetness  in  the  praise  of  the 
universe  to  him  whom  God  condemns  ? 

On  the  other  hand,  if  a  man  does  good  because  he 
loves  it,  if  he  does  right  to  please  God,  after  doing  it 
with  his  right  hand,  when  his  left  knows  nothing  about 
it,  if  he  values  esteem  and  honor  from  others  as  a 
ground  of  encouragement  in  well-doing,  if  he  prizes 
the  approbation  of  society  as  an  earnest  of  the  appro- 
bation of  God,  if  he  receives  praise,  not  as  incense  to 
his  vanity,  but  as  a  tonic  to  his  conscience,  if  he  re- 
joices in  the  favor  of  men  as  an  element  and  a  token  of 
further  influence  over  them  for  good,  then  he  has  a 
treasure  which  will  never  leave  him. 

Take  a  life  of  intellectual  acquisition,  a  life  devoted 
to  the  accumulation  of  knowledge,  the  study  of  truth. 
Is  not  this,  you  ask,  a  treasure  which  will  endure  ?  It 
undoubtedly  has  an  element  of  greater  permanence 
than  some  other  treasures  which  men  seek  after,  but 
whether  it  will  endure  forever,  depends  still  on  the 
question :  Is  it  sought  for  and  possessed  in  the  law  of 
God?  Is  it  made  a  part  of  the  deep  inner  spiritual  Hfe 
of  the  heart  ?  Does  it  contribute  to  the  development 
of  God's  image  within?  Knowledge  may  make  proud. 
It  may  petrify  the  heart.      It  may  turn  the  soul's  honey 


302  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

into  gall.     As  (Byron's)  Manfred  exclaims:    They  who 
know  the  most 

"Must  mourn  the  deepest  o'er  the  fatal  truth 
The  Tree  of  Knowledge  is  not  that  of  Life." 

Knowledge  is  power,  to  be  sure,  but  it  may  be  the 
power  of  a  devil.  The  true  significance  of  knowledge 
is  reached  when  you  find  what  God  thinks  and  means 
in  everything.  The  true  use  of  knowledge  is  not  real- 
ized until  it  puts  you  in  line  v/ith  God.  What  after 
all  makes  the  true,  the  highest  pleasure  of  a  life  of 
intellectual  acquisition?  It  is  the  discovery  of  truth, 
of  reality,  of  things  as  they  are,  of  Being,  that  Being 
whose  Alpha  and  Omega,  whose  center  and  circum- 
ference is  God: — it  is  the  apprehension  of  Law,  of 
God's  will,  making  known  his  Infinite  Wisdom;  it  is 
the  perception  of  beauty,  of  the  presence  and  inspira- 
tion of  the  living  Spirit  of  God;  it  is  the  practical 
application,  and  above  all,  the  benevolent  use  of  prin- 
ciples and  laws  in  their  moral  significance  and  power  to 
advance  the  coming  of  his  kingdom,  who  is  the  truth 
and  the  life.  Take  away  these  elements  of  enjoyment  in 
the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  and  what  have  you  left  that 
is  worth  cherishing  one  hour? 

You  will  say  perhaps  that  one  may  take  pleasure  in 
truth  considered  simply  in  its  abstract  intellectual  rela- 
tions. Let  us  grant  that.  But  you  must  also  grant 
that  truth  so  considered  is  limited.  Take  away  from 
truth  its  divine  aspirations,  its  significance  as  the  medium 
of  communication  between  God  and  man,  between  spir- 
itual realities  and  the  mind,  separate  it  from  its  moral 
instincts  and  results,  and  somewhere  you  will  find  an 
end  to  it.  In  a  soul  that  is  insensible  to  spiritual  beauty 
and  perfection  which  is  the  reflection  of  God's  glory, 
the  motives  to  the  pursuit  of  truth  must  sooner  or  later 
lose  their  power.      I  say  then,  that  such  a  soul  cannot 


SERMONS.  303 

make  permanent  progress.  There  is  a  point  beyond 
which  it  either  cannot,  or  will  not  go.  And  what  then  ? 
Of  what  value  will  all  previous  acquisitions  be,  when 
the  mind  can  no  longer  use  them  as  stepping-stones  to 
aught  higher,  when  it  can  no  longer  delight  in  them  ? 
Will  they  not  be  a  burden?  Will  it  not  say — Let  them 
perish!  Nay,  will  they  not  perish  for  that  mind?  Here 
also  will  that  fearful  curse  come  to  pass — "Whosoever 
hath  not,  from  him  shall  be  taken  away  even  that  he 
hath." 

Take  as  an  illustration  the  physical  sciences,  the 
study  of  nature,  so  justly  popular  in  our  day.  Here 
there  is  doubtless  an  immense  field  for  research,  yet  it 
is  not  illimitable.  Say  that  there  is  occupation  here  for 
the  mind  through  countless  ?eons — but  there  is  an  end 
somewhere.  Nature  is  not  infinite.  Robert  Browning, 
in  one  of  his  most  remarkable  poems,  that  entitled 
Easter-day,  describes  the  experiences  of  one  who  has 
chosen  this  world,  "Earths  exquisite  treasures  of  wonder 
and  delight,"  for  his  all.  At  first  his  soul  is  filled  with 
rapture,  but  he  finds  ere  long  that  there  is  all  the  time 
something  wanting.  The  vastest  science  is  finite  after 
all.  He  is  ever  haunted  by  the  feeling  that  all  he  sees 
and  knows  is  but  the  shadow  of  something  infinitely 
more  glorious.  He  has  knowledge,  it  is  true — but  the 
question,  "  Whereto  does  Knowledge  serve?"  burns  his 
eyes  at  every  step,  until  at  last  he  cries  out  in  des- 
pair, "I  let  the  world  go  and  take  Love,"  and  a  voice 
from  the  eternities  reminds  him  that  all  the  time  he 
was  striving  to  satisfy  himself  with  mere  knowledge, 
that  love  for  which  his  soul  hungered  was  all  about 
him.  Its  mightiness  was  entwined  round  about  all  the 
power  and  beauty  of  the  earth. 

"Love  lay  within  it,  and  without 
To  clasp  thee  but  in  vain.  Thy  soul 
Still  shrank  from  him  v/ho  made  thee  whole.  " 


304  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

My  hearers,  seek  that  love  now  which  is  reaching 
forth  to  embrace  you.  Lay  up  your  treasures,  your 
love  in  that  Love !  Your  affections,  your  friendship, 
your  household  loves  and  joys — these  are  your  treasures, 
and  these  you  fondly  hope  may  endure.  Ah !  you 
cannot  bear  to  think  that  these  should  perish.  You 
cannot  bear  to  dream  of  them  as  a  mere  memory,  a 
thing  of  the  past.  You  look  into  those  bright  and  lov- 
ing eyes  that  leap  to  meet  you,  your  soul  thrills  to  the 
music  of  those  sweet  familiar  voices,  which  daily  greet 
you,  your  heart  yearns  toward  the  kindred  heart  that 
shares  its  deepest,  most  sacred  life,  you  think  of  the 
departed,  of  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still,  and  you 
feel  that  love  must  be  immortal,  that  true  affectioa  will 
never  die.      You  would  fain  say  : 

Love  strikes  one  hour. — Love !  those  never  loved, 
Who  dream  that  they  loved  once. 

Yes,  my  friend,  God  made  love  for  immortality. 
Eternity  has  its  friendships — oftentimes  earth's  friendships 
but  transplanted,  ineffably  transfigured  and  glorified. 
Heaven  has  its  loves,  its  affections,  its  purely  human 
love — the  beginnings  of  which  were  here,  the  consum- 
mate beauty,  the  perfect  sweetness  of  which  is  there, 
for  is  not  heaven  the  best  of  earth  made  infinitely  bet- 
ter? Do  they  not  point  to  heaven  then  here?  Did 
not  our  Elder  Brother  have  his  bosom  friend  ?  They 
have  their  lo.wer,  their  earthly  uses  indeed.  They  min- 
ister to  our  present  gratification ;  they  contribute  to  our 
personal  comfort;  they  soften  the  roughness  of  life's 
journey;  they  refresh  the  wearied  spirit;  they  promote 
material  prosperity,  intellectual  and  social  culture.  But 
is  that  all  they  were  given  for  ?  Ah,  no !  They  were 
given  to  redeem  humanity  from  its  selfishness,  to  bring 
the   soul  into  sympathy   with   heavenly  affections,    to 


SERMONS.  305 

attune  it  to  spiritual  joys,  to  create  sources  and  supplies 
of  holy  living,  to  open  fountains  of  pure  and  regenerat- 
ing influence,  to  be  channels  for  divine  nurture,  to  edu- 
cate hearts  in  the  love  of  God,  to  train  them  for  the 
endless  future,  to  anticipate  heaven  below.  Friends, 
are  your  affections,  your  friendships,  your  social  life, 
your  home  loves,  consecrated  to  these  ends?  Sons  and 
daughters,  brothers,  sisters  and  friends,  are  these  fondly 
cherished  ties  of  life,  for  the  sake  of  which  you  cling  to 
the  thought  of  immortality,  are  they  made  lasting  by 
union  with  him  who  says,  "  If  a  man  abide  not  in  me, 
he  is  cast  forth  as  a  branch  and  is  withered,  and  men 
gather  them  and  cast  them  into  the  fire,  and  they  are 
burned"?  Or  do  you  profess  to  live  for  humanity,  to 
love  your  neighbor  as  yourself,  to  serve  your  age? 
Let  me  ask  you  is  Christ  in  your  love?  Is  the  cross 
in  your  service,  with  all  its  hatred  of  ^in,  with  all  its 
sacrifice  of  self,  with  all  its  consecration  to  the  glory  of 
God?  If  you  would  have  in  your  life  a  power  that  will 
make  it  immortal,  get  all  you  can  of  Christ  into  it.  If 
you  would  have  a  treasure  that  will  endure,  make  God 
your  chief  good.  Make  his  will  your  highest  law,  his 
glory  your  supreme  inspiration.  Live  to  God  and  all 
things  are  yours.  Be  what  God  loves.  Do  what  God 
loves,  and  you  need  not  trouble  yourself  about  your 
having  and  your  getting.  "  A  man's  life  consisteth  not 
in  the  abundance  of  the  things  which  he  possesseth." 
No !  it  is  not  money,  nor  what  money  can  bring,  not 
the  world  nor  what  the  world  can  minister,  not  knowl- 
edge, not  fame,  not  pleasure,  not  power, — but  life  that 
you  want. 

"  'Tis  life  whereof  our  nerves  are  scant, 
More  life  and  fuller  that  we  want," 

and  that  you  can  find  only  in  an  indwelling,  inspiring 
Christ.      "  I   am  come  that  they  might  have  life  and  that 


306  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

they  might  have  it  more  abundantly."  Seek  first  then 
the  Kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness,  and  not  only 
will  all  other  things  be  added  to  you  now,  but  hereafter 
nothing  that  is  worth  having  will  be  taken  away  from 
you. 


XIV. 

PRAYER. 

Luke  6  :  12.     "And  it  came  to  pass  in  those  days  that  he  went  out  into  a  mountain 
to  pray,  and  continued  all  night  in  prayer  to  God." 

This  is  but  one  of  many  passages  in  which  mention 
is  made  of  Christ  praying.  Indeed  these  passages  are 
so  numerous  that  it  would  seem  as  though  the  Holy 
Spirit  desired  to  call  special  attention  to  the  fact  that 
Christ  while  on  this  earth  did  pray,  and  to  impress  the 
fact  indelibly  on  our  minds.  There  is  also  a  manifest 
purpose  to  impress  on  our  minds  this  other  fact  that 
Christ  not  only  prayed,  but  was  earnest,  constant,  dili- 
gent in  prayer.  It  was  not  something  unusual,  extra- 
ordinary. It  was  not  a  spiritual  luxury  in  which  he 
indulged  only  at  rare  intervals.  It  was  a  constant 
habit ;  as  much  a  part  of  his  soul's  hfe,  as  breathing 
of  the  life  of  his  body. 

There  are  many  interesting  facts  in  connection  with 
Christ's  prayers,  which  it  would  be  profitable  for  us  to 
consider.  It  would  be  interesting  to  look  at  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  they  were  offered.  Sometimes — 
most  often,  doubtless,  he  prayed  in  solitude.  "And 
when  he  had  sent  the  multitude  away,  he  went  up  into 
a  mountain  apart  to  pray ;  and  when  evening  was 
come,  he  was  there  alone."  At  other  times  he  en- 
gaged in  social  prayer.  "And  it  came  to  pass  about 
eight    days    after    these    sayings,  he    took    Peter,   and 

(307) 


3o8  T.LEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

John,  and  James,  and  went  up  into  a  mountain  to 
pray."  What  prayer  meetings  were  those?  Who  of 
us  has  not  said,  "  Would  that  I  had  been  there?  "  We 
learn  that  he  withdrew  to  pray  before  engaging  in 
some  important  work,  as  before  choosing  his  7\postles, 
Again  he  retired  for  prayer  after  some  miraculous  ex- 
hibition of  his  power,  as  after  the  feeding  of  the  mul- 
titude with  a  few  loaves  and  fishes.  And,  again  he  is 
represented  as  praying  in  the  midst  of  his  labors,  as 
when  in  the  midst  of  his  discourse  to  the  Jews,  he  sent 
up  a  petition  to  the  Father,  and  the  voice  of  the  Father 
was  heard  in  answer,  so  that  some  thought  it  had  thun- 
dered, and  others  that  an  angel  had  spoken  to  him. 
He  prayed  for  himself  "Who  in  the  days  of  his  flesh 
when  he  had  offered  up  prayers  and  supplications  with 
strong  crying  and  tears  unto  him  that  was  able  to  save 
him  from  death,  and  was  heard  in  that  he  feared." 
He  prayed  for  others.  And  the  Lord  said,  "Simon, 
Simon,  behold  Satan  hath  desired  to  have  you  that  he 
may  sift  you  as  wheat.  But  I  have  prayed  for  thee  that 
thy  faith  fail  not."  "I  pray  for  them — neither  pray 
I  for  these  alone,  but  for  them  also  which  should  be- 
lieve on  me  through  their  word."  He  prayed  in  the 
agony  of  the  garden.  He  prayed  in  the  glory  of  the 
transfiguration.  He  commanded  men  always  to  pray. 
He  taught  us  how  to  pray  and  what  to  pray  for.  He 
gave  us  an  example  of  prayer. 

But  the  subject  I  wish  more  especially  to  consider 
now  is  the  nature  and  value  of  prayer  itself,  as  it  stands 
forth  revealed  to  us  in  the  life  of  Christ ;  the  meaning, 
the  power,  the  worth  of  prayer  as  signified  to  us  by 
the  fact  that  Christ  was  a  Man  of  Prayer.  The  im- 
portance of  prayer  as  an  element  of  the  spiritual  life 
cannot  be  overestimated.  The  many  exhortations  and 
encouragements  to  pray  contained  in  the  word  of  God, 


SERMONS.  309 

and  the  universal  experience  of  God's  people  in  all 
ages,  and  in  all  circumstances,  demonstrate  that  prayer 
is  a  necessity  of  true  religion,  an  essential  function  of 
its  vitality.  As  much  as  on  any  one  thing,  the  pros- 
perity of  the  spiritual  life  depends  on  earnestness  and 
faithfulness  in  prayer.  And  a  man's  estimate  of  that 
life  in  its  breadth,  its  obligations,  and  its  privileges 
may  be  indicated  almost  infallibly  by  the  estimate 
which  he  places  on  the  necessity,  the  value,  the  power 
of  prayer.  Every  consideration,  therefore,  which  ele- 
vates and  enlarges  this  estimate,  cannot  help  prov- 
ing eminently  useful,  if  rightly  applied.  And  I  know 
of  no  consideration  which  so  highly  exalts  the  dig- 
nity of  this  duty  as  its  observance  by  Christ.  In- 
deed one  of  the  grand  results  accomplished  by  the 
incarnation  of  the  Love  of  God,  has  been  the  exalta- 
tion of  every  duty,  of  every  virtue,  of  every  holy  feel- 
ing and  holy  deed,  to  a  dignity  which  it  could  never 
have  reached  had  it  been  left  to  human  performance 
alone.  If  we  wish  to  measure  human  duties  and 
human  virtues  at  their  highest  and  their  best,  we  must 
measure  them  by  the  standard  to  which  Christ  has 
raised  them.  We  have  scarcely  known  them  until  we 
know  them  in  his  life.  Let  us  look  at  Prayer  then  as 
a  part  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  and  try  to  discover  what  we 
may  learn  by  so  regarding  it. 

And  first  consider  the  testimony  which  the  prayers 
of  Jesus  furnish  to  the  intrinsic  efficacy  of  prayer,  or 
the  reality  of  prayer  as  a  power  influencing  God.  This 
conception  of  prayer  is  one  that  is  altogether  repugnant 
to  the  spirit  of  unbelief.  That  view  of  man  which  de- 
nies his  all-sufficiency  in  himself,  which  inculcates  his 
entire  dependence  upon  God,  arouses  the  pride  of  man 
to  the  bitterest  opposition.  That  view  of  prayer  which 
most  completely  and  absolutely  recognizes  this  depend- 


3IO  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

ence  is  rejected  with  scorn.  Speculative  difficulties  and 
scientific  objections  are  urged  against  it.  God — it  is  said 
— is  perfect ;  self-containing  and  self-contained,  self-suf- 
ficient and  self-energizing:  all  his  motive  powers  are 
within.  He  can  not  be  moved  from  without.  If  he 
could  he  would  not  be  perfect.  How  can  the  finite  in- 
fluence the  Infinite  ?  Moreover,  God's  plan  is  perfect. 
His  will  is  unchangeable.  His  laws,  the  laws  of  nature, 
the  expressions  of  his  will,  are  inflexible,  because  per- 
fect. Man  change  God's  plan  ?  Man  by  his  prayers 
interfere  with  the  operations  of  his  laws  ?  The  thought 
is  folly.  Special  providences,  special  answers  to  prayer 
are  an  absurdity,  an  impossibility. 

Listen  to  the  latest  exposition  of  the  theory,  given 
by  one  who  is  justly  admired  for  the  brilliancy  of  his 
scientific  speculations  and  the  glowing  eloquence  in 
which  they  are  set  forth,  but  for  whom  we  can  not  help 
regretting  that  on  this  point,  at  least,  he  did  not  al- 
low faith  to  teach  him  what  science  has  failed  to  under- 
stand. "A  miracle,"  he  tell  us,  "is  strictly  defined 
as  an  invasion  of  the  law  of  the  conservation  of  en- 
ergy. To  create  or  annihilate  matter  would  be  deemed 
on  all  hands  a  miracle.  The  creation  or  annihilation  of 
energy  would  be  equally  a  miracle  to  those  who  un- 
derstand the  principle  of  conservation.  Hence  arises 
the  skepticism  of  scientific  men  when  called  upon  to 
join  in  national  prayer  for  changes  in  the  economy  of 
nature.  But  while  prayer  is  thus  impotent  in  external 
nature,  it  may  react  with  beneficent  power  upon  the 
human  mind.  That  prayer  produces  its  effect,  benign 
or  otherwise,  on  him  who  prays,  is  not  only  as  indu- 
bitable as  the  law  of  conservation  itself,  but  it  will  prob- 
ably be  found  to  illustrate  that  law  in  its  ultimate  ex- 
pansion." 

Is  this  all  ?     Is  this  the  last  word    of  science  on  the 


SERMONS.  3  1 1 

sweetest,  divinest  exercise  of  the  soul,  on  this  dehght- 
ful  privilege  of  prayer,  that  it  is  only  the  ultimate  ex- 
pansion of  the  law  of  conservation? 

Is  prayer  a  power  for  no  other  reason  than  this,  that 
no  particle  of  force  can  be  lost,  that  the  energy  which 
goes  forth  in  prayer,  although  it  has  no  power  to  move 
God,  or  his  Laws,  reacts  on  him  who  prays,  and  thus 
is  saved  ?  What  a  petty,  pitiable  conception !  Ah !  ye 
who  worship  at  the  shrine  of  nature,  ye  who  pay  your 
cold  and  formal  homage  to  Fate,  to  Law,  as  ye  call  it, 
think  you  that  with  the  Bible  in  our  hands,  v/ith  God's 
exceeding  great  and  manifold  and  precious  promises 
spread  out  before  us,  with  all  the  manifestations  which 
he  has  given  of  himself  as  the  Hearer  of  Prayer,  with 
all  the  urgent  invitations  which  he  addresses  to  us  to 
plead  with  him,  and  to  im.portune  his  power  and  com- 
passion, with  all  the  evidences  which  the  experience 
of  believers  and  the  history  of  the  church  furnish  of 
special  answers  to  prayer,  we  can  take  up  with  this 
miserable  pretense,  this  mocking  of  true  prayer?  For 
what  is  prayer  on  the  theory  just  mentioned  but  mock- 
ery, God  and  man  playing  a  part?  Prayer  to  God? 
There  is  no  such  thing  on  such  a  theory.  It  is  prayer 
to  self  God  is  but  a  blank  wall  against  which  the 
prayer  is  projected  that  it  may  rebound  to  him  who 
sends  it  forth.  "  Drav/  nigh  to  God  and  he  will  draw 
nigh  to  you,"  says  the  Blessed  Book.  Yes,  there  is  a 
reciprocal  movement  of  God  and  his  child  in  true  prayer, 
each  drawing  to  the  other.  But  according  to  this  phi- 
losophy, falsely  so  called,  the  diviner  half  of  this  pre- 
cious truth,  that  which  teaches  that  God  really  responds 
to  prayer,  and  is  drawn  by  if,  is  a  mere  delusion.  How 
then  can  I  pray  to  God  ?  The  very  soul  of  true  prayer, 
truth,  earnestness,  simplicity,  trustful  communion  of 
heart  with  heart,  is  gone.     When  I  truly  pray  I  believe 


312  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

that  God  hears  me :  I  beheve  that  he  will  answer  me : 
I  take  his  promise  just  as  it  is,  as  meaning  all  that  it 
says,  yea,  and  more  than  I  can  comprehend  it  to  say  or 
to  mean.  I  use  it  not  as  the  gymnast  uses  his  rings 
and  ropes  to  strengthen  his  muscles,  but  as  a  power  to 
move  God.  I  believe  that  it  docs  move  the  Heart  of 
my  Father  in  Heaven,  and  that  every  attribute  of  his 
Godhood  is  at  the  service  of  his  Son  to  answer  my 
prayer.  If  in  all  this  I  am  mistaken  then  I  can  not 
pray ;  I  will  not  pray.  I  will  not  mock  the  Infinite 
One  with  words  which  have  no  meaning.  If  I  can  not 
pray  to  him,  I  will  not  pray  through  him  to  myself  If 
he  is  not  to  be  moved  by  my  entreaties,  I  will  not  de- 
grade him  to  be  the  dead  inert  mechanism  by  means 
of  which  I  accomplish  my  spiritual  exercises. 

What  I  want  is  not  the  reaction  of  my  own  soul  from 
an  Infinite  vis  Inertics  which  I  call  God,  but  the  action 
of  God  on  my  soul.  But  let  us  turn  from  these  super- 
ficial speculations  of  men,  to  the  words  and  life  of  the 
Son  of  God.  And  first,  his  words.  Look  at  the 
model  of  prayer  which  he  has  given  us.  Does  that 
look  like  a  charm,  an  incantation,  to  be  muttered  over 
for  the  sake  of  its  reactive  influence  ?  The  petition — 
"  Give  us  day  by  day  our  daily  bread,"  does  that  mean 
anything  ?  Does  God  really  give  us  our  bread  ?  Do 
we  not  get  it  by  the  observance  of  physical  and  social 
laws  ?  Is  there  any  need  of  asking  for  it  ?  Is  not 
praying  that  he  would  give  us  our  daily  bread  interfer- 
ing with  the  fixed  irreversible  laws  of  nature,  the  law 
of  conservation  of  force,  and  what  not,  fully  as  much  as 
praying  for  any  other  material  or  spiritual  good  ? 

Not  only  that,  but  Christ  exhorts  us  to  importunity 
in  prayer.  He  encourages  us  to  believe  that  the 
Infinite  Friend  we  have  in  heaven  can  be  prevailed 
upon   by  the   urgency   of  our  pleadings,    that  he    will 


SERMONS.  3  I  3 

yield  to  human  importunity,  and  grant  what  he  would 
not  have  granted  without  it.  Does  not  that  imply  a 
power  in  prayer  beyond  its  power  on  the  man  himself 
who  utters  it  ?  Did  he  not  tell  his  Disciples  that 
prayer  had  power  to  cast  out  devils,  those  even  which 
would  not  depart  from  men  when  commanded  to  do  so 
in  the  name  of  Christ  ?  Were  they  not  to  pray  that 
their  flight  from  the  calamities  impending  over  the 
nation  should  not  be  in  the  winter  nor  on  the  Sabbath 
day?  Does  not  that  pre-suppose  the  power  and  the 
willingness  on  the  part  of  God,  to  dispose  of  the  events 
of  life  in  answer  to  prayer  ? 

Did  he  not  say  to  Peter,  that  if  he  desired,  he  might 
obtain  through  prayer  more  than  twelve  legions  of 
angels  to  deliver  him  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Jews? 
Would  not  that  have  been  a  miracle,  what  the  mate- 
rialism of  to-day  would  call  an  impossibility?  So  much 
for  the  test  of  Christ's  words.  But  more  than  all, 
look  at  his  example.  Remember  how  diligently  and 
earnestly  he  prayed ;  how  he  was  wont  to  go  forth, 

"  Beneath  the  moonlight,  through  the  hnes 
Of  trembling  olive  leaves,  to  where  the  path 
Came  sudden  out  upon  the  open  hill ; 
Then  he  stood  waiting  till  the  flame  from  heaven 
Lighted  upon  the  inward  sacrifice 
Of  thoughts  most  pure,  and  then  the  holy  words 
Came  musically  forth  upon  the  night, 
More  sweet  than  tinkling  Kedron  on  the  pipe 
Of  distant  nightingale  ;  or  on  the  cliff 
Above  the  tossing  lake  He  prayed  and  stood, 
And  through  the  flight  of  jarring  elements 
Came  unimpeded  gliding  swiftly  down. 
From  the  Father's  hand  a  healing  drop  of  peace 
Upon  his  wounded  soul.     On  muuiitaiii  hv;i,;hts 
All  the  mid-hours  of  night,  with  serried  crags 
Towering  in  the  moonlight  overhead, 
And  through  a  channeled  dell  stretching  away, 
The  plains  of  Galilee  seen  from  afar. 
Till  morn  alone  he  prayed — whether  the  cup 
Of  self-determined  suffering  passed  athwart 
His  forward  vision  and  the  Father's  wrath 


314  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

Upon  his  human  soul  pressed  heavily, 
Or  for  the  welfare  of  his  chosen  flock 
He  wrestled  in  an  agony  of  prayer, 
That  their  faith  fail  not." 

Were  not  these  prayers  realities?  Was  he  simply 
playing  apart  in  them?  When  in  Gethsemane,  "being 
in  an  agony,  he  prayed  more  earnestly,"  was  he  but 
going  through  certain  forms  of  devotion,  that  his  soul 
might  become  purer,  stronger,  more  resigned?  When 
he  prayed  with  supplications,  aye,  with  strong  suppli- 
cation and  with  tears,  yea  with  tears  of  blood,  was 
there  in  his  prayer  nothing  more  than  that  which  mate- 
riahsm  finds  in  prayer?  Ah!  did  not  his  whole  soul 
grapple  with  the  throne  of  omnipotence  ?  Did  not  his 
whole  being  wrestle  with  God  ?  And  when  he  was 
heard  in  that  he  feared,  did  not  he  feel  that  prayer  is  a 
power  with  God  ? 

This  then  is  the  conclusion  to  which  we  must  come 
with  the  life  and  words  of  Christ  before  us;  God  is 
moved  by  prayer.  Christ  believed  this,  and  we  believe 
in  Christ.  We  do  not  believe  that  there  is  anything 
in  this  truth  which  is  in  the  least  contradictory  to  true 
science.  We  only  say,  when  one  comes  to  us  in  the 
name  of  science  and  tells  us,  "Your  idea  of  prayer  is 
unphilosophical  and  false" — we  believe  that  Christ 
knew  what  prayer  is,  as  no  other  man  has  ever  known ; 
We  believe  that  whatever  views  he  entertained  of  his 
person,  all  must  confess  that  no  one  ever  drew  nearer 
to  God  than  he,  and  that  what  Christ  found  in  prayer 
lies  in  prayer.  And  how  full  of  con.solation  and  inspi- 
ration is  this  thought !  Prayer  is  the  sam.e  for  us  as  it 
was  for  Christ.  Yes,  if  we  go  to  God  in  Christ,  in  the 
name  of  Christ,  in  the  faith  of  Christ,  in  the  spirit  of 
Christ,  we  can  pray  to  God  with  the  power  of  Christ 
in  our  prayer. 

But,  I  remark,  in  the  next  place,  that  the  prayers  of 


SERMONS.  315 

Christ  acquire  great  significance  when  taken  in  connec- 
tion with  the  fact  that  he  himself  heard  and  answered 
prayer. 

Because  Christ  was  a  man  of  prayer,  it  has  been 
argued  he  must  have  been  less  than  God.  He 
could  have  been  nothing  more  than  man,  nothing 
rrlore,  at  least,  than  a  created  being.  What,  then,  shall 
we  say  to  the  fact  that  he  allowed  himself  to  be  prayed 
to,  that  he  heard  prayer,  prayer  for  temporal  good, 
prayer  for  spiritual  good,  prayer  for  sight,  hearing, 
health  for  the  body,  prayer  for  pardon,  faith,  life  for 
the  soul?  Can  any  one  but  God  hear  such  prayers? 
Would  Christ,  pure  and  truthful,  as  all  confess  him  to 
be,  have  stood  in  the  place  of  God,  and  seemed  to  hear 
prayer,  being  only  man  ? 

What  shall  we  say,  moreover,  to  this  other  fact,  that 
Christ  not  only  heard  prayer,  but  answered  it  ?  "  Who- 
soever Cometh  unto  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out." 
No  one  ever  did  go  to  him  without  finding  what  he 
sought.  Men  prayed  to  him  for  forgiveness,  they  ob- 
tained it.  They  prayed  for  faith,  they  received  it. 
They  prayed  for  peace,  and  their  peace  was  like  a  river. 
They  prayed  for  Eternal  Life,  and  it  was  given  to  them. 
They  prayed  for  those  things  which  God  alone  can 
give,  and  according  to  their  faith  it  was  done  unto  them. 
In  return  they  gave  to  him  the  homage  and  devotion 
which  God  claims  for  himself,   and  Christ  accepted  it. 

But  how  do  you  explain  this,  you  say,  that  one  and  the 
same  being  should  both  pray  himself,  and  hear  prayer? 
We  do  not  explain  it.  It  belongs  to  the  mystery  of 
Christ's  personality ;  for  there  is  a  mystery  here,  but  it 
is  the  one  mystery  which  solves  for  us  all  the  m.yste- 
ries  of  life  and  eternity.  In  him  are  united  in  an  in- 
comprehensible manner,  truths,  powers,  realities,  so  far 
removed  from  each  other,  that  they  seem  to  be  in  oppo- 


3l6  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

sition ;  yet  we  can  not  dispense  with  any  one  of  them ; 
each  is  in  itself  precious  and  necessary ;  and  their  union 
in  Christ  gives  us  something  still  more  precious  and 
glorious. 

It  is  so  here.  Christ  the  Man  of  Prayer !  How  we 
cherish  the  thought !  Christ  the  God  of  Prayer ! 
How  we  rejoice  in  that  thought !  And  that  it  is  the 
same  Christ  who  is  both  the  one  and  the  other,  is  there 
not  something  unspeakably  precious  in  that  thought? 
Think  of  it  a  moment.  Behold  a  being  who  partakes 
so  far  of  the  lowliness  of  our  nature  that  he  knows 
what  it  is  to  yearn  and  to  agonize  in  prayer — who  at 
the  same  time  partakes  so  far  of  the  exaltation  of  God, 
that  he  knows  what  it  is  to  dispense  the  gifts  of  God 
to  men  in  answer  to  prayer!  What  a  bond  of  union 
between  Omnipotence  and  weakness,  between  God's 
throne  and  human  want !  How  does  prayer  itself 
seem  lifted  up  until  it  becomes  itself  almost  Divine, 
something  akin  to  the  Power  and  Love  which  reign 
on  high. 

Think  of  this  again.  If  the  Son  of  God  heard 
prayer  during  the  days  of  his  humiliation,  while  he 
himself  was  wont  to  offer  prayer — how  much  more  is 
he  the  Hearer  of  Pra3^er  now  when  he  is  exalted  to 
the  right  hand  of  God?  If  when  he  was  as  a  root  out 
of  dry  ground,  he  had  power  on  earth  to  forgive  sins, 
how  much  more  now  when  the  light  of  his  presence 
is  the  glory  of  heaven?  If  when  he  himself  was  a  man 
of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief,  he  could  give 
rest  to  the  v/eary,  and  peace  to  the  distressed,  how 
much  more  now  when  the  joys  of  Eternity  and  the 
blessedness  of  the  Father's  bosom  are  his  once  more? 
If  while  clothed  with  weakness  and  suffering,  he  could 
minister  strength  to  the  faint,  how  much  more  now 
when  all  power  in  heaven  and  on  earth  is  in  his  hands? 


SERMONS.  3  1 7 

If  on  the  accursed  tree  he  could  hear  the  prayer  of 
the  dying  malefactor,  and  assure  him  of  Paradise,  how 
much  more  can  he  hear  and  save  now,  when  he  is 
raised  far  above  all  principalities,  and  powers,  and  do- 
minions? What  encouragement  to  faith  and  to  prayer 
then  does  this  thought  bring  us? 

Let  us  consider  again  what  the  character  of  Christ  as 
a  Man  of  Prayer  suggests  in  regard  to  the  dependence 
of  the  spiritual  life  and  of  spiritual  progress  on  prayer. 
That  prayer  is  indispensable  to  the  culture  and  develop- 
ment of  the  spiritual  life  is  known  to  all  who  have 
sought  in  sincerity  to  live  such  a  life :  its  value  as  an 
element  of  holiness  and  of  spiritual  power  has  been  too 
deeply  felt  by  all  such  to  be  questioned.  But  how 
greatly  is  its  importance  enhanced  by  the  reflection  that 
even  the  spiritual  life  of  Jesus,  whose  life  was  holiness 
itself,  was  dependent  on  the  power  of  prayer. 

It  is  true  that  in  some  respects,  the  holiness  of  Jesus 
was  different  from  that  which  is  possible  to  us.  It  was 
spontaneous,  perfect,  infallible,  it  partook  of  the  sanc- 
tity of  the  Divine  Life.  But  if  Divine,  it  was  also  hu- 
man. It  partook  in  some  respects  at  least  of  the  growth 
of  his  manhood.  It  was  determined  by  the  laws  and 
conditions  of  his  human  development.  It  was  aided  by 
the  means  which  God  has  ordered  for  the  culture  of 
holy  wisdom  and  power.  Pre-eminent  among  these 
means  for  him  as  for  all  others  was  prayer.  By  prayer 
his  heart  was  strengthened  against  temptation.  By 
using  and  pleading  the  Father's  promises,  his  faith,  his 
trust  in  the  Father  was  confirmed.  By  much  frequent- 
ing of  the  secret  sanctuary  the  beauty  of  his  holiness 
was  kept  untarnished  and  undimmed.  By  constant 
communion  with  the  Father  his  zeal,  his  activity,  his 
love  received  ever  new  supplies  of  inspiration.  None 
has  ever  worked  for  God  like  Christ,  for  none  has  ever 


3lS  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

prayed  to  God  like  him.  And  now  was  prayer  all  this 
to  Christ,  and  can  it  be  nothing  to  you  and  me?  Did 
he  derive  such  great  benefit  from  it,  and  can  we  dis- 
pense with  it  ?  We  who  are  so  full  of  sin,  who  live  in 
a  world  so  full  of  temptation  to  wrong,  whose  hearts 
are  so  susceptible  to  the  influences  of  evil,  who  find  it 
so  hard  to  trust  in  God,  to  believe  in  truth,  to  be  ever 
loyal  to  the  right,  to  cherish  a  good  thought  when  it 
comes  to  us,  to  act  on  a  right  motive  when  it  springs 
up  within  us,  to  keep  ourselves  unspotted  from  the 
world — can  we  do  without  prayer?  And  yet  we  who 
need  it  so  much  more  than  Christ,  how  little  we  make 
of  it  compared  with  him  ! 

But  the  character  of  Jesus  as  a  Man  of  Prayer  is  still 
further  an  important  link  in  the  bond  of  brotherhood  by 
which  he  is  united  to  us. 

This  Jesus — this  Saviour — this  Friend — how  truly  he 
is  one  of  us !— how  truly  he  is  our  brother!  Not  only 
did  he  learn  as  we  learn,  think  as  we  think,  feel  as  we 
feel,  talk  as  we  do,  share  our  lot,  our  infirmities,  our 
trials,  rejoice  with  those  who  rejoiced,  weep  with  those 
that  wept,  but  he  also  prayed  as  it  is  our  privilege  to 
pray.  Not  altogether  indeed  as  we  do.  We  have  to 
pray  for  much  for  which  he  had  no  need  to  pray.  He 
had  no  confessions  of  sin  to  make.  The  cry  for  mercy, 
the  plea  for  pardon,  the  prayer  for  reconciliation  never 
went  up  from  him.  Here  indeed  the  difference  between 
his  prayers  and  ours  is  infinitely  great.  Sin  over- 
shadows our  life  here  so  much  that  our  prayers  here 
are  mainly  an  appeal  to  be  delivered  from  it :  and  we 
sometimes  feel  as  though  if  we  were  only  rid  of  sin 
there  would  be  no  further  need  of  prayer.  But  surely 
this  is  a  great  mistake.  Sin,  alas !  contracts,  impover- 
ishes our  prayers,  as  it  does  everything:  and  to  be 
under  the  necessity  of  using  prayer,  almost  altogether 


SERMONS.  3  I  9 

as  a  means  of  being  healed  from  sin,  is  to  be  in  tlie 
condition  of  the  sick  man  who  uses  all  his  time,  his 
property,  his  skill  and  strength,  all  the  joys  and  com- 
forts of  nature  and  of  providence  to  get  rid  of  his  sick- 
ness, when  if  he  were  only  well  he  might  use  them  all 
to  enlarge  his  powers  and  his  joys  to  aid  him  in  becom- 
ing a  more  perfect  man.  Ah!  if  only  we  were  well! 
What  enlargement,  what  powers,  what  enjoyment, 
what  life  would  be  ours!  What  prayers  we  should 
offer!  Prayers  for  opportunities  and  blessings  of  which 
we  have  no  conception  now !  Could  we  but  hear  the 
prayers  of  heaven  !  What,  you  sa}',  prayers  in  heaven  ? 
Most  assuredly.  We  shall  no  more  see  our  Father 
there  than  here.  We  shall  be  nearer  to  him,  it  is  true; 
but  that  will  be  in  part  because  we  shall  be  able  to 
pray  to  him  more  perfectly,  to  commune  with  him  more 
lovingly.  We  shall  not  be  all  the  time  looking  on 
Christ  with  the  bodily  eye,  but  we  shall  come  nearer  to 
him  also  in  prayer,  and  in  the  sweet  intimacy  of  spir- 
itual fellowship.  Could  we  then  only  hear  some  of 
those  heavenly  prayers ! — or  better  still — could  we  have 
entered  one  of  those  holy  shrines  where  Jesus  was  wont 
to  meet  with  the  Father,  and  have  heard  him  pray! 
Then  we  should  have  known  what  it  is  to  pray. — But, 
why  wish  for  this?  We  have  one  of  his  prayers  in  this 
dear  Book — and  oh!  how  we  should  thank  the  Holy 
Spirit  for  it !  one  of  his  last  prayers,  offered  up  for  his 
beloved  ones  !  Ah  !  my  friends,  this  is  enough,  and 
more  than  enough  for  us  now.  In  this  life  we  can  no 
more  than  just  begin  to  understand  this  one  outpouring 
utterance  of  our  Brother's  heart,  to  decipher  here  and 
there  a  character  in  which  is  traced  that  wondrous 
mystery  of  Divine  Majesty,  Humility,  Strength,  Ten- 
derness,  Holiness,   Love ! 

Yet  after  all — think  of  it ! — how  much  do  the  prayers 


320  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

of  Jesus  have  in  common  witli  our  own !  The  yearninj^ 
for  sympathy,  the  longing  for  love,  the  expression  of 
trust,  the  utterance  of  resignation,  the  desire  of  good 
for  others,  the  prayer  for  the  Divine  blessing  on  his  la- 
bors, for  strength  to  Avork  and  to  suffer,  the  appeal  for 
help,  yes,  the  cry  of  a  soul  in  darkness,  forsaken  of 
God, — all  this  is  in  his  prayers.  In  all  this  we  find  our 
Brother — in  all  he  is  our  Fore-runner  at  the  mercy- 
seat.  Ah !  yes,  it  is  our  privilege  to  come  very  near  to 
Christ  in  prayer.  We  sometimes  wish  that  we  might 
visit  those  spots  which  were  hallowed  by  his  presence 
on  earth.  Could  we  but  gaze  on  the  scene  which  once 
met  his  eye,  could  we  but  tread  reverently  in  his  foot- 
steps, we  fancy  we  might  draw  nearer  to  him  than  we 
have  ever  done  yet.  But  we  need  not  go  to  Palestine 
for  that.  Bethlehem,  Galilee,  Nazareth,  Bethany,  Je- 
rusalem, Olivet,  Gethsemane,  we  might  visit  them  all, 
and  be  further  off  from  Jesus  than  before.  But  before 
our  Father's  throne — there  we  meet,  there  we  embrace, 
there  his  heart  beats  to  ours. 

"  There  is  a  place  where  Jesus  sheds 
The  oil  of  gladness  on  our  heads  ; 
A  place  than  all  besides  more  sweet, 
It  is  the  blood-bought  mercy-seat." 

Think  then  as  you  go  to  the  mercy-seat,  Christ  has  been 
there  before  you ;  as  you  speak  the  name  Father,  Christ 
has  spoken  it  before  you;  as  you  pray  for  consolation, 
for  light,  for  Divine  aid,  for  the  Father's  blessing  on 
your  labors  and  your  sorrows,  for  the  salvation  and 
prosperity  of  those  you  love,  Christ  has  prayed  for  all 
those  things  before  you ;  and  if  ever  you  have  reason  to 
know  that  God  has  heard  your  prayer,  rejoice  in  the 
thought  that  the  same  heart  which  went  out  toward  his 
Son,  is  also  going  out  in  the  fulness  of  its  riches  toward 
you. 


SERMONS.  321 

But  still  further:  Christ  himself  was  brought  by  his 
prayers  into  closer  sympathy  with  us.  Not  only 
does  the  assurance  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a  man  of 
prayer,  assist  us  to  recognize,  to  trust  and  to  love  him 
as  a  brother,  but  it  was  also  one  of  the  conditions  and 
constituents  of  his  brotherhood  and  sympathy.  Christ 
became  man  that  he  might  realize  more  intimately  the 
weaknesses  and  v/ants  of  his  brethren.  He  can  be 
touched  with  the  feelings  of  our  infirmities.  As  it  is 
said  that  he  learned  obedience  by  the  things  which  he 
suffered,  so  it  may  be  said  that  by  his  humian  experi- 
ences he  learned  sympathy,  and  prayer  was  to  him  one 
of  the  most  precious  of  these  experiences.  Foras- 
much as  he  was  tried  in  all  things  like  as  we  are,  for- 
asmuch as  he  prayed  in  so  many  things  like  as  we 
do,  prayed  to  the  same  Father,  in  the  same  human 
speech,  out  of  the  same  sense  of  weakness  and  want, 
for  the  same  blessings,  yes,  prayed  for  us,  as  well  as 
with  us,  his  love  for  us  is  something  more  than  it  would 
have  been  without  this  fellowship  of  experience.  There 
is  nothing  which  conserves  human  love  like  prayer. 
Nothing  which  gives  it  a  holier  tone — a  heavenly  in- 
spiration, which  causes  its  sacredness  to  be  more  deeply 
felt.  The  love  which  has  never  clung  to  the  Throne  of 
Love,  whose  inmost  soul  is  not  a  prayer,  knows  not 
what  it  misses.  Oh  !  when  the  mother  bears  her  child 
to  the  mercy-seat,  dedicates  it  to  God  with  prayerful 
love,  she  loves  that  child  as  she  never  did  before,  as  she 
never  could  have  loved  it  otherwise.  She  loved  it  be- 
fore as  her  own,  she  loves  it  henceforth  as  God's  also, 
and  therefore  more  than  ever  her  own ;  for  what  we 
give  to  God  becomes  doubly  ours.  My  friends,  if  you 
wish  to  make  your  love  all  that  it  can  become,  if  you 
wish  it  to  attain  the  utmost  beauty,  tenderness,  power 
and   perfection  of  which   it  is   capable,  convert  it  into 


j-'-i 


LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 


prayer,  take  it  to  God,  that  he  may  seal  it  witli  his 
smile.  If  you  wish  to  give  to  tlie  objects  of  your  affec- 
tion the  best,  the  purest,  the  most  lasting  love,  take  that 
love  to  God,  leave  it  with  God,  commune  with  it  in  the 
presence  of  God,  pray  it  into  the  heart  of  God. 

Pray  your  love ;  thus  you  will  deepen  it,  enlarge  it, 
strengthen  it,  exalt  it  continually.  For  thus  did  Christ. 
His  love  was  one  which  prayed  for  its  objects.  If  you 
would  know  how  Christ  loved  his  own,  see  how  he 
prayed  for  them.  Read  that  memorable,  prayer  which 
the  Beloved  Disciple  John  has  recorded  for  us  in  his 
Gospel  in  the  seventeenth  chapter.  See  what  things  he 
prayed  for.  "That  they  may  be  one  in  us:  one,  even 
as  we  are  one :  that  they  may  be  with  me  where  I  am : 
that  they  may  behold  my  glory  which  thou  hast  given 
me:" — and  last  of  all  and  greatest  of  all :  "that  the 
love  wherewith  thou  hast  loved  me  may  be  in  them, 
and  I  in  them."  Yes,  and  he  loved  them  through  pray- 
ing for  them.  His  prayers  were  prayers  of  love:  his 
love  was  the  love  of  prayer.  And  as  on  earth  so  in 
heaven :  which  brings  us  to  the  final  thought  of  this 
discourse. 

The  prayers  of  Christ  are  valuable  as  an  earnest  of 
his  heavenly  intercession  on  behalf  of  all  v/ho  come  to 
God  in  his  name.  We  may  be  sure  Christ  did  not 
cease  to  pray  when  he  left  earth.  A  work  in  which  he 
delighted  so  much  while  here,  he  will  delight  in  while 
there  is  any  least  need  of  it,  any  least  good  to  be  secured 
by  it,  for  the  least  of  his  brethren.  While  there  is  a 
weary,  struggling,  hard-beset  soul  in  need  of  strength 
and  comfort,  Christ  v^'ill  pray  for  that  soul.  He  prays 
for  each  one  whom  he  loves ;  for  is  he  not  the  Good 
Shepherd,  who  knows  and  calls  by  name  every  one  of 
his  flock  ? 


SERMONS.  323 

"  The  names  of  all  his  saints  he  bears 
Deep  graven  on  his  heart." 

You  remember  how  he  prayed  for  Peter.  Foresee- 
ing his  danger,  the  special  trial  which  was  about  to 
befall  him,  he  prayed  for  a  special  blessing  for  him. 
"I  have  prayed  for  thee,  that  thy  strength  fail  not." 
And  if  for  one,  why  not  for  the  rest,  for  John,  James, 
Thomas,  Philip,  for  each  and  every  one  of  them? 
And  if  on  earth,  why  not  in  heaven  ?  Is  he  not  the 
merciful  and  faithful  High  Priest  who  ever  liveth  to 
make  intercession  ?  And  if  for  each  one  of  his  dis- 
ciples, why  not  for  each  one  of  us  ? 

Yes,  for  me,  for  me  he  careth 

With  a  brother's  tender  care  ; 
Yes,  with  me,  with  me  he  shareth 

Every  burden,  every  fear. 

Yes,  for  me  he  standeth  pleading 

At  the  mercy  seat  above ; 
Ever  for  me  interceding, 

Constant  in  untiring  love. 

Oh,  for  an  interest  in  his  intercession ;  for  a  place  in 
his  prayers  !  Is  this  your  desire,  friends  ?  Then  all 
you  have  to  do  is  to  go  to  him,  to  trust  in  him,  to  lay 
your  wants,  your  cares,  your  sorrows  at  his  feet,  and 
at  once  he  will  make  them  his  own.  He  will  take 
your  prayers,  make  them  his  own,  and  so  present 
them  to  the  Father.  Seek  to  come  into  sympathy 
with  him  as  the  Man  of  Prayer,  and  you  will  find 
yourself  in  communion  with  him  as  the  God  of  prayer, 
receiving  of  his  fullness.  Frequent  that  secret  sanctuary 
of  devotion  which  Christ  visited  so  constantly,  and 
you  will  inherit  his  peace  and  joy. 

Your  Father  who  .seeth  in  secret  will  reward  you 
openly. 


XV. 

CHRIST  REVEALING  THE  FATHER. 

John  14 :  6.     "  No  man  cometh  unto  the  Father  but  by  me." 

"Lord,  show  us  the  Father  and  it  sufficeth  us,"  was 
the  earnest  and  fervent  appeal  of  one  of  Christ's  dis- 
ciples immediately  after  these  words  were  uttered  by 
the  Master.  Ah  !  how  often  has  the  cry  gone  up  out 
of  the  heart  of  humanity  !  "  Show  us  the  Father  !  " 
after  whom  through  all  our  misery  and  weakness  we 
reach,  whose  infinite  love  alone  can  satisfy  us,  show  us 
the  Father  and  it  is  enough.  We  want  no  more. 
Having  found  him  we  have  found  our  All.  But  have 
we  not  seen  the  Father?  Do  we  not  know  at  least 
where  to  find  him?  "Show  us  the  Father,"  said 
Philip :  and  yet  how  near  the  Father  was  to  him. 
How  strangely  blind  were  Philip  and  his  brethren. 
' '  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  yet  hast  thou 
not  known  me,  Philip  ?  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen 
the  Father."  How  then  came  Philip  to  ask  the  question  ? 
Evidently  it  was  not  enough  to  see  Christ  with  the  bodily 
eye.  To  see  the  man  Jesus,  was  not  to  see  the  Father, 
for  of  the  multitudes  who  did  see  him  in  Galilee,  how 
few  saw  the  Father!  Ah,  there  was  a  knowing  of  Jesus 
which  went  beyond  seeing  him.  "  If  ye  had  known  me, 
ye  should  have  known  my  Father  also,  and  from  hence- 
forth ye  know  him  and  have  seen  him." 

But  Jesus  says  more  than  this  to  his  disciples.  Not 
(324) 


SERMONS.  325 

only  is  it  true  that  he  who  hath  known  Jesus,  hath 
known  the  Father; 'but,  moreover,  without  knowing 
Jesus,  we  cannot  know  the  Father.  "No  man  cometh 
unto  the  Father  but  by  me,"  No  man  findeth  the 
Father  save  in  the  Son.  Had  Christ  never  come  into 
the  world,  the  race  would  have  lost  its  Father,  we 
should  have  been  orphans  for  evermore. 

This  seems  to  you,  perhaps,  difficult  of  belief,  at 
least  of  comprehension.  It  may  seem  to  you,  perhaps, 
that  it  is  only  a  more  forcible  and  emphatic  way  of  say- 
ing that  Christ  has  made  it  much  easier  to  find  the 
Father,  that  in  Christ  much  more  of  the  Father  is 
visible  than  elsewhere.  It  may  seem  to  you  that  there 
is  much  outside  of  Christianity  which  tells  us  of  the 
Father,  much  which  points  to  him  in  nature ;  much 
which  reminds  of  him  in  Providence ;  much  which 
bears  witness  to  him  in  the  heart. 

But  let  me  ask  you  to  think  how  much  these  evi- 
dences owe  to  the  witness  of  Christ.  You  forget  that 
Nature,  Providence,  Experience,  the  world  without  you, 
and  the  world  within  you,  all  stand  revealed  in  the  light 
which  shines  from  the  sun  of  righteousness. 

Christianity  fills  the  air.  You  see  through  it;  you 
hear  through  it ;  you  feel  through  it.  Infidelity  itself 
has  something  of  this  unconscious  Christianity  in  it. 
It  is  of  a  higher  prder  than  it  would  be  otherwise. 
That  which,  but  for  the  coming  of  Christ,  would  have 
been  shadowy,  confused,  discordant,  has  through  him 
become  clear,  intelligible,  and  harmonious.  He  inter- 
prets to  you  the  mysterious  hieroglyphics  of  nature, 
the  dark  enigmas  of  Providence,  the  vague  yearnings 
of  your  own  heart. 

No !  these  words  of  Jesus  need  no  modification,  no 
extenuation.  No  man  comes  to  the  Father,  no  man 
draws  so  near  to  God  that  he  can  say,   "I  have  found 


326  LLEWEYLN    lOAN    EVANS. 

the  Father,"  but  by  Christ.  In  the  darkness  into 
which  Christ  has  never  shone,  one  may  ask  indeed,  is 
there  not  a  Father?  One  may  hope  that  there  is  a 
Father;  one  may  cast  himself  on  the  unknown  God, 
trusting  bHndly  that  he  may  fall  into  a  Father's  arm, 
but  it  will  be  a  leap  in  the  dark  ;  no  one  has  found  the 
Father,  no  one  embraces  him  with  loving  confidence, 
no  one  can  know  that  the  Highest  to  whom  he  clings 
is  indeed  a  Father,  who  has  not  known  Christ,  and  who 
is  not  in  Christ,  even  as  Christ  is  in  the  Father,  and  the 
Father  in  him. 

For  consider  how  many  and  how  great  are  the  diffi- 
culties in  the  way  of  our  finding  our  Heavenly  Father 
without  the  help  of  Christ. 

Take  first  the  idea  of  God  as  it  seems  to  He  originally 
in  the  mind.  Think  of  that  mysterious  being  to  whom 
the  soul  looks  up  with  anxious  questioning,  as  He  is  in 
Himself,  or  rather  as  our  minds  if  left  to  themselves 
would  be  constrained  to  think  of  him.  Reflect  on  his 
infinitude.  Try  to  grasp  the  idea  of  a  Being  without 
limitations.  You  cannot.  The  mind  is  lost  in  attempt- 
ing it.  And  still  you  are  constrained  to  believe  in  this 
Infinitude.  You  are  compelled  to  believe  that  there 
must  be  a  being,  to  whose  nature  and  life  you  can  set 
no  bounds,  to  whom  there  can  be  nothing  beyond  him- 
self, nothing  above  himself,  nothing  without  himself, 
who  is  beset  by  no  imperfections,  to  whom  not  only 
nothing  is  impossible,  but  nothing  is  hard,  obscure,  re- 
mote, who  sees  all  things,  who  understands  all  things, 
who  can  do  all  things,  who  holds  all  things  within  him- 
self, who  knows  infinitely,  who  loves  infinitely,  who 
enjoys  infinitely,  who  is  without  beginning  and  without 
end,  from  everlasting  to  everlasting.  The  longer  you 
meditate  on  his  nature,  the  more  you  struggle  to  grasp 
the  secret  of  his  personality,  to  comprehend  the  pleni- 


SERMONS.  327 

tude  of  his  perfection,  the  more  hopeless  does  the  en- 
deavor become,  the  more  awful,  the  more  inaccessible, 
the  more  incomprehensible  does  he  seem  to  you  until 
the  idea  of  him  haunts  you  as  an  Infinite  Spectre,  or 
darkens  it  as  the  dread  shadows  of  Eternity, 

' '  Behold  the  nations  are  as  a  drop  of  the  bucket,  and 
are  counted  as  the  small  dust   of  the  balance,   behold 

he  taketh  up  the  isles  as  a  very  little  thing 

All  nations  before  him  are  as  nothing,  and  they  are 
counted  to  him  less  than  nothing,  and  vanity."  Com- 
pared with  his  greatness  the  universe  is  an  infinitesimal; 
compared  with  his  fulness  of  life  and  power,  all  life  is 
infinitesimal  and  all  power  weakness ;  compared  with  the 
infinitude  of  Being  in  him — nothing  is:  He  is  :  his  name 
— Jehovah — I  am — who  says  :  * '  Before  the  worlds  were, 
I  am,"  when  heaven  and  earth  have  passed  away,  I  am. 

And  now  contrast  yourself  with  this  Being.  See  the 
limitations  which  hedge  you  in  on  all  sides.  How 
narrow  the  little  round  in  which  you  move  compared  with 
the  circles  and  cycles  of  his  existence.  How  you  shrink 
into  nothingness  in  presence  of  his  greatness !  Which- 
ever way  you  go — how  soon  you  find  the  end,  the  bar- 
rier which  stops  you,  saying:  thus  far  and  no  farther! 
How  many  difficulties  there  are  which  you  cannot  sur- 
mount! How  miany  mysteries  which  you  cannot  pene- 
trate !  But  yesterday  you  were  not — tomorrow  where, 
what  will  you  be?  You  live  in  but  a  moment  of  time, 
the  Past  is  gone  from  you,  the  Future  evades  you. 
All  around  you  spreads  the  shoreless  ocean  of  existence, 
you  but  a  drop  in  its  surface.  Beneath  you  are  the 
unfathomable  depths ;  above  you  tower  the  firmaments 
and  heavens,  immensity  rising  above  immensity,  as 
Alps  on  Alps  arise,  you  but  an  atom  drifting  betv/een. 
That  frail  organism  which  your  personality  inhabits  be- 
comes a  little  deranged,  and  you  are  a  raving  maniac. 


328  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

That  brittle  thread  which  holds  soul  and  body  together 

snaps  and  for  you   the  universe   is   changed ;   Eternity 

swallows  you  up  in  itself. 

Such  is  God — such  are  you !     He  the  Infinite,  you 

the  finite.     He   the  Eternal,  you  the  ephemeral.      He 

the  Omnipresent,   you   the  atom.      He  the  All-seeing 

and  All-knowing — dwelling  in  the  light  which  no  man 

can  approach — you 

"An  infant  crying  in  the  night 
And  with  no  language  but  a  cry." 

He,  the  Supreme,  the  All-perfect,  the  All-victorious, 
whose  will  is  Law,  whose  Decree  is  Destiny.  You  the 
blind,  the  erring,  the  sport  of  circumstances,  the  vic- 
tim of  events.  He  needing  nothing,  you  needing  every- 
thing. Such  is  He;  such  are  you.  Dare  you  say — 
He  is  my  Father !  Is  he  not  for  you  an  incompre- 
hensible Terror?  Is  he  not  rather  one  whose  name, 
like  those  men  of  old,  you  dare  not  pronounce,  a 
Being  whom — you  feel — to  look  on  would  be  death, 
to  touch  would  be  annihilation? 

But,  you  will  say,  God  does  not  abandon  us  to  the 
fancies  and  imaginations  of  unaided  intellect.  He  has 
not  left  himself  without  witness.  "The  invisible  things 
of  him  from  the  creation  of  the  world,  are  clearly  seen, 
being  understood  by  the  things  that  are  made,  even  his 
Eternal  power  and  God-head."  And  this  revelation  of 
himself  in  nature,  you  will  say,  has  in  it  much  to  soften 
the  sterner  features  of  the  image  which  the  mind  forms 
when  left  to  itself,  much  to  bring  God  and  man  together. 
Nature  reveals  to  us  the  Goodness  of  God,  the  interest 
which  he  takes  in  his  creatures,  the  care  with  w^hich  he 
watches  over  them,  and  thus  you  think,  perhaps,  we 
may  be  led  to  think  of  God  as  our  Father. 

You  will  not  forget,  however,  that  we  see  Nature  in 
the   light   reflected   on  it  from  the  revelation  which  is 


SERMONS.  329 

through  Christ.  But  how  is  it  when  you  confine  your- 
self strictly  to  the  teachings  of  Nature  ?  Ask  yourself 
what  is  the  most  obvious  relation  which  God  sustains 
to  Nature?  The  answer  will  be  that  of  Creator  to  the 
work  which  He  himself  has  made.  But  is  this  re- 
lation one  that  suggests  that  of  a  Father?  Is  it  not 
rather  one  which  considered  in  itself  alone,  seems  to 
exclude  it?  Take  what  is  involved  in  the  idea  of  a 
Creator.  It  involves  in  the  act  of  Creation,  a  pov/er 
unique  in  itself,  a  power  which  involves  in  itself  all 
other  power.  It  involves  unlimited  authority  over  that 
which  has  been  created,  and  right  to  dispose  of  it  as 
the  Maker  wills.  It  involves  the  infinite  inferiority  of 
the  creature  to  the  Creator ;  for  it  is  inconceivable  that 
God  should  produce  another  Being  like  himself,  or 
equal  to  himself.  There  is,  perhaps,  no  power  in  the 
Deity  which  so  far  transcends  human  power,  none  which 
so  strikingly  im.presses  on  the  mind  the  immeasurable 
superiority  of  God,  as  this  power  of  creation,  of  abso- 
lute origination.  With  nothing  but  the  light  of  nature 
to  guide  him,  how  can  man  claim  such  a  power  as  his 
Father?  Himself  a  creature,  how  can  he  claim  Sonship 
to  the  Creator? 

You  will  remember,  however,  that  man  is  a  creature 
in  the  image  of  God,  and  for  this  reason  he  is  in  a 
special  sense,  as  no  other  creature  is,  the  Child  of  God. 
But  how  do  we  know  this  ?  Whence  have  v/e  derived 
that  idea?  Take  away  that  revelation  of  which  Christ 
is  at  once  the  center  and  the  crown,  and  what  founda- 
tion have  we  for  such  a  belief? 

Let  us  admit  that  the  consciousness  seems  to  have 
been  felt  in  a  measure,  when  only  the  light  of  nature 
has  prevailed ;  that  the  heathen  have  spoken  of  a  pater- 
nal character  of  their  divinities ;  that  heathen  poets,  as 
Paul  quotes  one  of  them,  speak  of  men  as  the  offspring 


330  LLEWELYN    lOAN     EVANS. 

of  God.  But  the  paternal  character  which  heathenism 
•ascribes  to  its  gods,  has  scarcely  anything  in  it  to  re- 
mind us  of  Him  whom  Christ  calls  "My  Father  and 
your  Father."  The  former  is  at  most  nothing  more 
than  the  representation  of  the  First  Being  in  the  order 
of  existence,  the  expression  of  a  certain  dependence 
and  subordination,  like  that  of  subjects  on  their 
rulers,  or  of  tribes  on  their  chiefs.  The  heathen 
Father — who  was  he  ?  Oftentimes  it  was  the  tyrant 
who  sacrificed  his  subjects  to  his  cruel  caprices,  the 
chieftain  who  sold  his  dependents  like  cattle.  Hea- 
thenism knows  nothing  of  that  filial  liberty,  that  affec- 
tionate trust,  that  intimate  communion,  that  constant 
sense  of  an  ever  near,  ever  loving  Father  which  the 
Christian  experiences.  To  the  great  mass  of  heathen- 
dom, the  name  Father,  as  applied  to  God,  is  an  empty 
name,  a  dead  title.  But  you  will  say,  it  is  not  in  na- 
ture alone  that  God  is  revealed.  History  or  Providence, 
as  we  sometimes  call  it,  is  a  manifestation  of  him.  In 
the  administration  of  the  world's  affairs  he  displays 
those  moral  attributes,  and  that  personal  interest  in  the 
affairs  of  men,  which  incline  us  to  think  of  Him  as  our 
Father. 

But  here  again  what  is  the  aspect  under  which  we 
most  naturally  view  God?  It  is  that  of  Ruler,  King, 
Judge.  He  sits  on  the  throne :  the  Universe  is  his 
Kingdom.  All  creatures  are  his  subjects.  He  is  the 
Supreme  Legislator;  he  commands,  it  is  the  duty  of  all 
to  obey.  He  is  the  Arbiter  of  Events ;  nothing  takes 
place  but  by  his  ordinance  or  permission.  He  doeth 
according  to  his  will  in  the  armies  of  heaven  and  amiong 
the  inhabitants  of  earth  and  there  is  none  that  can  stay 
his  hand  or  say  unto  him :  what  doest  thou?  He  is  the 
Supreme  Judge  who  executes  all  the  laws  of  his  king- 
dom, the  dispenser  of  all  their  rewards  and  penalties. 


SERMONS.  331 

This  Is  the  voice  of  all  History,  the  testimony  of  all 
experience  concerning  God  in  Providence.  It  proclaims 
God  not  as  the  Father,  but  as  the  Sovereign,  the  Ar- 
biter, the  Disposer,  the  Nemesis.  We  may  say,  indeed, 
that  his  government  is  a  paternal  government,  that  he 
rules  as  a  Father,  but  what  is  our  warrant  for  this? 
The  Ruler  is  not  necessarily  the  Father,  In  human 
governments,  at  least,  the  two  characters  are  not 
only  separate  and  distinct,  but  they  often  come  in  con- 
flict, and  what  do  we  find  then?  What  is  the  duty  of 
the  magistrate  when  the  interests  of  the  government  de- 
mand one  course  of  action,  while  the  Father's  affections 
prompt  another?  The  latter  must  yield  to  the  former. 
If  the  King,  the  Judge,  yields  to  the  Father,  we  accuse 
him  of  weakness,  he  is  unfit  to  rule.  On  the  other 
hand,  in  proportion  as  the  Supreme  Ruler  of  the  world 
is  invested  with  the  more  tender  and  approachable  at- 
tributes of  a  Father,  in  the  same  proportion  is  he  di- 
vested of  the  attributes  of  an  absolute  Sovereign.  Thus 
it  was  with  the  Greeks,  the  most  intellectual  heathens 
whom  the  world  has  ever  known.  The  more  their  su- 
preme divinities  were  clothed  with  human  feelings  and 
passions,  and  brought  into  contact  with  human  affairs, 
the  less  were  they  regarded  as  the  real  rulers  of  the 
world.  The  real  god  of  the  Greek  was  Fate.  And  so 
universally.  To  the  mind  which  has  received  no  light 
from  the  revelation  of  God  in  Christ  the  world  is  ruled 
by  Fate :  either  by  a  Supreme  Divinity  which  is  no 
other  than  Fate  personified,  or  by  an  impersonal  Fate 
against  which  even  the  gods  rebel  in  vain.  No  !  we  find 
no  Father  there.  It  may  be,  however,  that  distrusting 
the  intentions  and  deductions  of  the  intellect,  you  fall 
back  on  the  instincts  of  the  heart.  You  say,  I  believe, 
because  I  have  felt — 


332  LLEWELYN  lOAN    EVANS. 

"  I  found  Him  not  in  world  or  sun, 
Or  eagle's  wing,  or  insect's  eye, 
Nor  througli  the  questions  men  may  try, 
The  petty  cobwebs  we  have  sjiun : 
If  e'er  when  faith  had  fallen  asleep 
I  heard  a  voice — '  Believe  no  more,' 
And  heard  an  ever-breaking  shore 
That  tumbled  in  the  Godless  deep; 
A  warmth  within  the  breast  would  melt 
The  freezing  reason's  colder  part, 
And  like  a  man  in  wrath  the  heart 
Stood  up  and  answered — '1  have  felt.'" 

Yes,  you  say  these  feelings,  these  yearnings,  these 
cravings  for  a  love  such  as  only  a  Father  can  give  must 
find  their  justification  in  the  reality  toward  which  they 
reach  forth.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  undervalue  these 
feelings,  or  to  impair  their  testimony.  Cherish  it,  prize 
it,  rejoice  in  it  to  the  utmost.  And  were  that  faith  of 
the  heart,  that  faith  of  instinct  sufficient  for  every 
emergency  that  can  overtake  it,  you  might  satisfy  your- 
self with  it;  nothing  more  would  be  needed.  But 
it  is  not  so.  There  are  times  when  it  fails  you, 
there  are  hours  when  those  yearnings  and  hopes 
are  overwhelmed  beneath  doubts  and  fears.  Too 
much  of  life's  pilgrimage  lies  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death  for  a  faith  which  is  mere  feeling.  We 
live  in  a  world  where  Light  and  Darkness,  Joy  and 
Pain,  Life  and  Death  hold  divided  empire.  Nature  se- 
cretes poison  as  well  as  honey.  She  nourishes  the  night- 
shade as  well  as  the  lily,  the  upas  as  well  as  the  vine. 
The  forked  lightning  shoots  along  the  track  of  the  sun- 
beam, blasting  and  withering.  The  vulture  sweeps  in 
the  path  of  the  dove ;  the  wolf  prowls  in  the  footsteps 
of  the  lamb.  Fierce  engines  of  destruction  are  ever 
forging  and  launching  forth :  subtle  elements  of  death 
are  ever  brewing  and  brooding.  Tornadoes,  volcanoes, 
earthquakes,  fire  and  flood  ravage  the  earth  with  deso- 
lating fury.      Armies  of  creatures  born  to  prey  are  tor- 


SERMONS.  333 

turing  and  devouring  their  numberless  hecatombs.  If 
we  could  but  hear  it — one  unbroken  shriek  of  agony, 
one  eternal  wail  of  woe,  is  heard  amidst  the  endless 
laughs  and  songs  of  nature.  The  earth  is  a  charnel- 
house  :  the  rocks  are  the  obituaries  of  untold  genera- 
tions that  have  been  crushed  into  the  dust  of  death. 

The  civilizer's  spade  grinds  horribly 

On  dead  men's  bones,  and  can  not  turn  up  soil 

That's  otherwise  than  fetid,  all  success 

Proves  partial  failure  :  all  advance  implies 

What's  left  behind  :  all  triumph,  something  crushed 

At  the  chariot  wheels  :  all  government,  some  wrong  : 

And  rich  men  make  the  poor  who  curse  the  rich, 

Who  agonize  together :  rich  and  poor 

Under  and  over  in  the  social  spasm 

And  crisis  of  the  ages. 

And  so  the  dark  tragedy  goes  on,  the  strong  crush- 
ing the  weak,  wrong  often  triumphant,  tyranny  su- 
preme, fraud  successful,  bodies  preyed  on  by  disease, 
smitten  with  the  pestilence,  wasting  with  hunger,  minds 
dwarfed  in  idiocy  or  wrecked  in  insanity,  souls  crushed 
beneath  burdens  too  heavy  to  be  borne,  hearts  bleed- 
ing, hopes  withered,  noble  enterprises  dashed  to  dust, 
the  innocent  bearing  the  curse  of  the  guilty,  lives  of 
beautiful  promise  blighted  in  the  bud,  tears  of  sorrow, 
and  sorrows  too  deep  for  tears,  prayers  for  a  blessing 
that  never  comes,  and  prayers  for  death  that  comes 
too  late,  blessings  that  turn  to  curses,  doubt  that  turns 
to  despair.  Ah  !  not  easy  is  it  for  the  heart  to  lift  itself 
out  of  the  shadow  which  these  dark  problems  of  exist- 
ence cast  upon  it.  The  mere  feeling  that  God  is  our 
Father,  will  avail  but  little  against  these  other  feelings, 
these  doubts  and  fears  that  are  rolled  upon  the  mind 
by  the  dread  mysteries  v/hich  are  all  about  and  within 
you.  There  is  still  another  voice  than  that  of  the 
heart  coming  up  from  within  to  which  you  must  give 
heed.     It  is  the  voice   of  conscience.     And  what  does 


334  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

it  say  ?  It  tells  you  that  whatever  the  relations  at  first 
existing  between  God  and  you  might  have  been,  these 
relations  are  altogether  changed.  It  is  not  now  as  it 
was  in  the  beginning.  You  are  not  nov/  as  when  you 
first  came  from  God.  You  have  done  all  in  your  power 
to  break  the  tie  which  bound  you  to  God.  What  if  it 
be  broken  forever  f  You  have  repudiated  God's  pater- 
nal authority  over  you,  you  have  slighted  his  paternal 
interest  in  you,  you  have  spurned  his  Father's  love  for 
you,  your  course  tells  you  that  you  have  deserved  to 
be  eternally  disowned — why  should  not  a  just  Father 
treat  you  as  you  deserve  ?  You  have  become  as  unlike 
to  your  Father  as  darkness  is  unlike  light,  as  sin  is  un- 
like holiness ;  how  can  a  holy  God  delight  in  you  as  his 
child?  You  left  your  Father's  house  and  became  a  child 
of  shame.  Your  course  tells  you  that  you  have  no 
longer  any  right  to  his  hospitalities,  that  to  cross  the 
pure  threshold  and  to  enter  the  sacred  precincts  where 
he  dwells,  would  be  sacrilege.  You  have  dishonored 
your  Father's  name,  you  have  traduced  his  glory. 

Your  course  tells  you  that  to  call  yourself  his  child 
would  be  blasphemy.  It  interprets  against  you  all  the 
portents  of  nature,  and  all  the  terrible  facts  of  life.  It 
bids  you  see  in  the  lightning  the  bolt  of  his  vengeance, 
and  in  the  pestilence  the  scourge  of  his  wrath.  It 
makes  you  tremble  when  his  judgements  are  abroad  in 
the  earth,  and  ever  and  anon  whispers  to  your  shudder- 
ing soul — "  Thy  God  is  a  consuming  fire. "  What  then  ? 
Must  you  yield  to  despair  ?  This  belief  in  a  Divine 
Father,  is  it  no  other  than  an  illusion  ?  This  hope  that 
you  may  be  the  child  of  an  Infinite  Love,  is  it  but  "a 
mockery  ?  Must  you  walk  in  doubt  and  darkness  all 
your  days,  groping  for  a  hand  you  never  feel,  seeking 
for  a  heart  you  never  find ?     No  !  no!  no !     One  there 


SERMONS.  335 

is  whom  to  see  is  to  see  the  Father,  whom  to  find  is  to 
find  the  Father. 

Behold  him !  hear  him  !  He  teaches  you  to  call  God 
your  Father  in  Heaven.  He  proclaims  his  Fatherhood 
to  the  world.  He  brings  everything  into  connection 
with  his  Fatherhood.  The  earth  and  all  its  creatures 
are  the  Father's.  All  the  events  of  life  are  the  Father's 
dispensations.  Seeing,  as  we  all  see,  these  dark  enig- 
mas of  existence,  these  ills  and  miseries  which  abound, 
yea,  looking  deeper  into  their  awful  mysteries  than  it  is 
possible  for  us  to  look,  he  still  announces  not  only  with 
confidence,  but  with  joy,  that  God  is  our  Father.  And 
he  is  a  Teacher,  the  like  of  whom  the  world  has  never 
seen.  He  speaks  as  man  never  spoke.  He  speaks 
with  an  authority  v/hich  all  acknowledge. 

But  this  is  not  all.  You  doubt,  perchance,  whether 
the  testimony  of  the  wisest  of  teachers  is  sufficient  of 
itself  on  a  matter  of  so  great  importance.  The  wisest 
may  err.  The  purest  may  be  under  a  delusion.  His 
very  purity  and  spirituality  may  perchance  cause  him 
to  be  more  susceptible  to  the  power  of  dreams  and 
ideal  conceptions,  beautiful  in  themselves,  but  with  no 
foundation  in  reality.  Here  again,  you  receive  a  new 
assurance  from  the  testimony  of  Jesus  that  he  has  come 
immediately  from  the  Father  to  tell  the  world  of  Him 
who  sent  him.  He  speaks  as  the  special  messenger  of 
the  Most  High,  divinely  commissioned  to  tell  us  what 
we  most  need  to  know  of  God.  He  speaks  the  words 
which  he  received  of  God.  He  tells  us  what  he  has 
seen  with  God.  All  his  utterances  and  all  his  actions 
are  such  as  the  Father  has  taught  him,  that  he  may 
teach  us.  He  claims  all  this,  and  you  feel  that  his 
claims  must  be  true,  for  otherwise  Jesus  himself  is 
a  self-contradiction.  His  life  is  a  falsehood,  his  mis- 
sion a  delusion.      This  it  is  which,  gives  significance   to 


336  LLFAVELYN    lOAN    EVANS, 

his  life,  which  seals  his  words  with  authority.  He  is 
from  the  Father  to  speak  of  tlie  Father  to  men.  If  this 
be  not  true,  nothing  more  is  left  us  to  believe  in.  His- 
tory is  an  impossibility;  character  is  an  ignis fatiius ; 
the  best  in  human  life,  the  deepest  in  human  conscious- 
ne^fe,  the  grandest  in  human  aspiration  is  vanity  of  vani- 
ties. If  anything  is  true,  this  must  be  true,  that  when 
he  speaks,  it  is  God's  word  that  we  hear,  when  he  tells 
us  of  God,  it  is  God  telling  us  of  himself.  When  he 
assures  us  that  God  is  our  Father,  it  is  God  assuring  us, 
"  I  am  your  Father." 

Do  you  need  anything  more  than  this?  Do  you  de- 
mand an  assurance  from  the  inner  depths  of  the  Divine 
Nature  ?  Do  you  fear  that  the  interval  between  God  and 
anyone  less  than  himself  is  so  imm-ense  that  you  can- 
not trust  the  deliverances  of  any  inferior  being?  Behold 
then  in  Christ  one  who  is  not  only  sent  forth  by  God, 
but  who  has  come  forth  out  of  God.  Yea !  he  is  the 
Son  of  God  : — not  as  a  creature,  for  he  was  with  God  in 
the  beginning,  before  the  world  was : — but  the  Son  of 
God  as  a  Divine  Being — the  only  begotten,  the  Eternal 
Son  of  God.  He  calls  God  Father  in  a  peculiar  sense, 
He  teaches  us  to  say — '^Our  Father,"  he  says  ''My 
Father." — "I  am  the  Son  of  God,"  he  says.  "I  and 
my  Father  are  one."  And  if  you  thoughtfully  consider 
his  words  and  his  life,  you  are  constrained  to  believe  in 
these  declarations.  He  speaks  ^God  as  no  other  than 
the  only  and  well  beloved  son  of  God  r^?//^  speak.  He 
speaks  to  God  as  no  other  would  dare  to  speak ;  he 
claims,  he  enjoys,  he  exhibits,  he  manifests,  a  oneness 
with  God  to  which  it  would  be  blasphemy  in  any  other 
to  make  any  pretension.  He,  the  Lowly  in  Heart,  de- 
mands for  himself  what  belongs  only  to  God,  The 
heart  of  God  throbs  in  the  life  of  Christ,  and  every- 
where it  is  a  Father's  heart.    He  it  is  who  comes  to  you 


SERMONS.  337 

and  siys — God  is  your  Father.  He  knows  that  God  is 
the  Father.  From  Eternity  he  v/as  in  the  bosom  of  tliat 
Father,  he  Hved  in  the  love  of  that  Father.  He  knows 
it ;  he  has  tasted  it  in  all  its  sweetness ;  he  has  enjoyed 
it  in  all  its  fulness.  He  knows  that  the  name  Father 
when  applied  to  God  is  no  figure  of  speech,  no  empty 
title. 

Is  not  this  enough?  Do  you  still  doubt  v/hether 
after  all  the  Father  of  Christ  can  h& your  Father?  Be- 
hold in  Christ  again  your  brotJicr;  bone  of  your  bone 
and  flesh  of  your  flesh.  The  Son  of  God,  he  is  at  the 
same  time  the  Son  of  Man.  "The  brightness  of  the 
Father's  glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  person," 
he  is  yet  one  of  our  family.  He  is  crowned  with  infi- 
nite perfection,  radiant  with  a  majesty  before  which 
heaven  veils  its  eyes ;  and  yet  we  see  his  brow  wet  with 
bloody  sweat,  and  his  eyes  with  human  tears.  He  is 
King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords,  and  yet  he  is  not 
ashamed  to  call  us  brethren.  He  is  my  Lord  and  my 
God,  and  yet  he  is  my  brother.  He  it  is  who  says: 
"Go  to  my  brethren  and  say  unto  them:  I  ascend  unto 
my  Father  and  your  Father,  to  my  God  and  your  God." 
The  same  God,  the  same  Father, — the  same  Father's 
love  to  trust  in,  and  to  bless  you  unto  the  end. 

Do  you  still  hesitate,  do  you  still  tremble  as  you  ap- 
proach this  God  ?  Ah  !  I  know  the  reason  why.  You 
remember  the  sin  which  has  alienated  you  from  him. 
You  feel  the  guilt  which  rises  between  you  and  him. 
But  look  again  to  Christ.  Does  he  repel  sinners?  He 
calls  them  to  him.  Does  he  shun  the  guilty  ?  He  says 
"Come  to  me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest!"  Does  he 
give  up  the  lost?  "  He  came  to  seek  and  to  save  the 
lost."  Do  you  point  to  your  sin?  His  blood  cleanseth 
from  all  sin.  Your  guilt?  His  cross  takes  all  your  guilt 
away.    Divine   Justice?     Nowliere   does   it  shine  more 


338  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

brightly  than  in  the  sacrifice  made  on  Calvary — The 
Law?  Nowhere  is  it  so  fully  magnified  and  made  hon- 
orable as  in  the  obedience,  the  sufferings,  and  the  death 
of  the  Crucified  One.  God — He  is  your  Father,  he 
stands  with  open  arms  to  receive  you ;  he  beseeches  you 
to  return  and  be  reconciled  to  himself;  the  door  is  open, 
the  feast  is  prepared,  the  table  is  spread,  the  welcome, 
the  ring,  the  robe — all  is  ready.  You  have  but  to 
throw  yourself  down  at  his  feet,  crying  "Father,  I  have 
sinned  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son," 
— and  that  is  the  last  you  hear  of  your  sins.  They  are 
forgotten  :  naught  remains  for  you  henceforth,  but  the 
smiles,  the  embraces,  the  entertainments,  the  compan- 
ionship, the  love  of  a  Father  who  is  yours  forever. 

And  how  have  you  found  him  ?  Ah !  need  I  say  ? 
Does  not  your  heart  now  respond  to  this  declaration — 
"No  man  cometh  unto  the  Father  but  by  me."  Yes, 
it  is  in  Christ  that  you  find  your  Father,  it  is  in  Christ 
that  the  Father  finds  his  lost  child.  Your  Elder  Brother 
brings  you  to  the  Father — he  brings  the  Father  to  you. 

You  are  accepted  in  Him.  The  Father  receives  you 
for  his  sake,  and  loves  you  in  Him — "  He  is  our  Peace." 
"If  a  man  loves  me,"  says  Jesus,  and  let  each  one 
listen  to  his  words — "he  will  keep  my  words — and  my 
Father  will  love  him,  and  we  will  come  unto  him,  and 
make  our  abode  with  him."  "The  Father  himself 
loveth  you,  because  ye  have  loved  me."  "  O  righteous 
Father,  the  world  hath  not  known  thee;  but  I  have 
known  thee,  and  these  have  known  that  thou  hast  sent 
me,  and  I  have  declared  unto  them  thy  name" — Father! 
—  "and  will  declare  it:  that  the  love  wherewith  thou 
hast  loved  me  may  be  in  them,  and  I  in  them." 

Oh !  who  can  comprehend  the  blessedness  of  the 
Sons  of  God?  Language  fails,  imagination  fails,  Eter- 
nity alone  can  unfold  it.      ' '  Now  are  we  the  Sons  of 


SERMONS.  339 

God,  and  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be,  but 
we  know  that  when  he  shall  appear  we  shall  be  like 
him  " — Sons  of  God  now ;  like  the  First-begotten  here- 
after.— The  lost  image  restored,  the  lost  Sonship  re- 
gained. 

Brother, — forget  not  the  way,  there  is  but  one;  "I 
am  the  way:  no  man  cometh  to  the  Father  but  by  me. " 
As  many  as  received  Him,  to  them  gave  he  power  to 
become  the  Sons  of  God.  Receive  Christ ;  and  you 
find  your  Father. — Reject  Christ  and  you  lose  your 
Father — you  yourself  are  lost :  you  are  a  wanderer,  an 
outcast,  an  orphan  through  all  Eternity. 


XVI. 

THE  YOUTH  OF  CHRIST. 

Luke  3 :  23.  "And  Jesus  hiinsslf  began  to  be  about  thirty  years  of  age  "  [or  more 
correctly]  "And  Jesus,  himself  was,  when  beginning  (his  ministry)  about  thirty 
years  of  age." 

It  has  been  remarked  that  there  is  inspiration  even  in 
the  silence  of  Scripture.  I  may  add  that  there  is  in- 
spiration even  in  its  hints.  What  we  know  about  the 
age  of  Christ  we  learn  only  from  a  few  hints  scattered 
here  and  there.  The  text  is  one  of  these.  Here  we 
learn  that  Christ  began  his  public  m.inistry  at  the  age 
of  30.  From  what  is  said  elsewhere  we  may  infer  that 
his  ministry  lasted  about  three  years,  and  then  ended  on 
the  cross.  On  the  third  day  he  rose  again,  and  forty 
days  thereafter  he  ascended  to  heaven.  And  thus  we 
learn  that  all  the  notable  events  of  his  life  took  place 
within  the  brief  space  of  three  and  thirty  years.  Christ 
died,  rose,  and  left  the  earth,  while  still  in  his  youth. 
And  in  that  life  this  surely  means  something. 

Observe,  however,  that  the  Bible  makes  no  parade  of 
this  fact.  The  biographies  of  those  vrho  have  distin- 
guished themselves  in  youth  generally  take  pains  to 
make  the  fact  prominent.  Not  so  the  Bible.  The  text 
is  the  only  passage  v.here  direct  mention  is  made  of 
Christ's  age  in  connection  with  his  ministry.  It  nowhere 
tells  us  how  old  he  was  when  he  died,  or  v.hen  he  left 
(340) 


SERMONS. 


341 


this  earth.  It  leaves  us  to  find  that"  out  for  ourselves. 
Yet  it  lies  there,  one  of  the  many  proofs  of  its  gen- 
uineness. It  is  just  as  careful,  however,  not  to  leave  us 
in  entire  ignorance  touching  our  Lord's  age.  The  truth 
that  Christ  was,  and  is  forever  young,  is  full  of  signifi- 
cance, and  sheds  important  light  on  many  aspects  of  his 
personality  and  of  his  work.  Let  us  make  it  the  theme 
of  our  present  contemplation. 

I  remark  then,  to  begin  with,  that  first,  Christ's  youth 
is  an  evidence  of  the  innateness  and  originality  of  his 
wisdom.  At  thirty  years  of  age  he  began  to  teach  the 
mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  From  the  very 
first  all  were  astonished  at  his  teaching.  He  taught  as 
one  having  authority,  and  not  as  the  scribes.  Men 
said: — A  great  prophet  is  risen  up  among  us.  The 
common  people  heard  him  gladly.  Members  of  the 
Sanhedrim  said : — Here  is  a  prophet  com.e  from  God. 
Where  did  his  wisdom  come  from?  From  India?  or 
Egypt?  or  Greece?  Did  he,  like  Pythagoras,  Socrates, 
or  Plato,  travel  abroad  from  country  to  country,  possess- 
ing himself  of  all  the  intellectual  wealth  of  the  schools 
of  his  day,  and  learning  philosophy  at  the  feet  of  the 
greatest  masters?  Not  so.  He  never  left  his  own 
land :  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  ever  heard  the  name 
of  a  single  school  of  philosophy  or  master  of  thought 
outside  of  Palestine.  Surely  then  he  had  learned  all 
that  was  taught  in  Tiberias,  or  Jerusalem :  he  had  sat  at 
the  feet  of  the  Gamaliels  of  his  own  nation,  and  mas- 
tered  their  doctrines  ?  Not  even  that.  Until  he  began 
to  teach  he  was  known  only  as  a  carpenter,  and  a  car- 
penter's son  :  and  his  own  neighbors  inquired  in  wonder: 
"  How  knoweth  this  man  letters,  having  never  learned?" 
Notwithstanding,  the  testimony  of  all  who  heard  him 
was — "  Never  man  spake  like  this  man."  A  v/isdom 
so  penetrative,  so  fruitful,  so  clear  and  yet  so  deep,  so 


342  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

gentle  and  yet  so  authoritative  was  never  known.  What 
remains  of  it  to  us  is  perfect.  There  is  in  it  nothing 
dim,  nothing  shallow,  nothing  false,  nothing  obsolete. 
The  world  has  never  outgrown  it.  It  never  will. 
Whence  did  Christ  acquire  it?  Not,  I  repeat,  in  other 
lands,  for  he  never  went  out  of  his  own.  Not  in  books 
or  in  schools,  for  these  were  denied  him.  Not  by  a 
lengthened  experience,  for  when  he  began  to  display 
it  he'  was  only  thirty  years  old.  At  the  age  of  twelve 
even,  he  astonished  the  doctors  of  the  temple  with  his 
questions  and  answers, 

A  parallel  is  sometimes  drawn  between  Christ  and 
Socrates  as  teachers.  But  Socrates  lived  in  Athens, 
the  center  of  the  intellectual  activity  of  the  world  in 
his  day.  He  attended  its  schools.  He  was  an  educated 
man.  He  associated  with  its  teachers  and  statesmen. 
He  devoted  himself  to  the  life  and  pursuits  of  a  phi- 
losopher. He  died  in  the  fulness  of  years  and  the  ma- 
turity of  experience,  having  reached  the  allotted  span 
of  man's  life — died,  no  doubt,  like  a  philosopher, 
Christ  died  at  one-half  the  age  of  Socrates — died,  as 
has  been  said,  like  a  God.  The  wisdom  of  Socrates 
was  human:  the  wisdom  of  Christ  divine.  We  hear 
still,  to  be  sure,  of  the  Socratic  method  in  philosophy : 
yet  what  is  that  as  a  power,  as  an  influence  in  the  world, 
compared  with  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  with  that  Di- 
vine Philosophy  which  the  word  Christianity  represents? 
Whence  then,  I  ask  again,  did  Christ  obtain  his  wis- 
dom ?  There  is  but  one  answer.  He  could  have  ac- 
quired it  only  from  above,  only  from  within.  It  was 
the  inspiration  of  the  Godward  within  him,  the  result 
of  his  perfect  communion  and  oneness  with  the  Father. 
Well  might  he  say:  "  I  do  nothing  of  myself,  but  as 
my  Father  hath  taught  me  I  speak  these  things.  ...  I 
speak  to  the  world  those  things  which  I  have  heard  of 


SERMONS.  343 

him.   ...   I  have  given  unto  them   the  words   which 
thou  gavest  me." 

2.  The  youth  of  Christ  is  an  element  of  importance 
in  determining  his  moral  character.  Christ,  as  we 
know,  laid  claims  to  holiness,  such  as  have  been  pre- 
sented by  no  other.  He  claimed  absolute  immunity 
from  sin.  "  Which  of  you  convinceth  me  of  sin?"  So 
he  challenged  the  men  of  his  day,  who  knew  him,  who 
watched  him,  who  thirsted  alike  for  his  blood  and  for 
his  reputation,  and  the  challenge  was  never  taken  up. 
His  most  intimate  associates  declared  that  he  knew  no 
sin,  neither  v;as  guile  found  in  his  mouth.  With  hu- 
mility, with  gentleness,  and  yet  v/ith  incomparable  dig- 
nity, he  said  to  those  v/hose  righteousness  was  their 
pride:  "Ye  are  from  beneath,  I  am  from  above." 
What  now  was  the  nature  of  his  holiness  ?  Was  it  the 
condition  of  one  v/ho  was  tired  of  sin,  in  whom  the  pas- 
sions had  expended  all  their  strength,  whose  sensibilities 
were  blunted  by  time,  on  whose  senses  the  world  and 
its  pleasures  had  begun  to  pall,  who  was  wearied  of 
all  its  vanities  and  follies  ?  Far  from  it.  Was  it  the 
holiness  of  one  who  had  been  engaged  for  long  years 
in  the  conflict  with  evil,  who  had  gained  the  mastery 
over  sinful  inclinations  and  habits  only  after  a  prolonged 
and  fluctuating  struggle,  in  which  the  victory  had  not 
always  been  with  his  better  self?  Nay,  indeed,  not  that. 
Was  it  even  the  holiness  of  one  from  the  first  predom- 
inately, although  not  absolutely  good,  gentle,  simple, 
pure,  benevolent,  who  by  the  diligent  cultivation  of 
these  graces  grew  more  and  more  good,  pure,  gentle 
and  loving,  until  not  a  vestige  of  their  opposites  re- 
mained? Not  even  that.  Mark  it.  It  was  not  the  ho- 
liness of  a  faded  [blase]  life,  of  a  decayed  animalism — 
if  that  could  be  called  holiness.  It  was  not  the  moral 
character  of  a  spiritual  veteran,  who  by  dint  of  a  long 


344  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

and  hard  struggle  had  fought  his  way  into  holiness,  and 
who  carries  in  his  soul  the  scars  of  many  a  doubtful  bat- 
tle. It  was  not  the  purity  of  culture :  it  was  no  prod- 
uct of  art.  What  was  it  then  ?  It  was  the  holiness 
of  one  who  in  childhood  had  recognized  as  the  para- 
mount obligation  of  his  life  the  doing  of  his  Father's 
business,  who  in  youth  grew  up  in  wisdom  and  in  favor 
with  God  and  men,  who  was  never  overcome  by  the 
most  fearful  temptations,  although  they  assailed  him 
when  he  was  most  susceptible  to  their  power.  When 
all  his  sensibilities  were  liveliest,  when  his  capabilities 
of  enjoyment  were  keenest,  when  the  instincts  and  im- 
pulses of  his  manhood  were  most  vigorous,  when 
the  world  made  its  strongest  appeals  to  the  love 
of  power,  the  love  of  happiness,  the  love  of  praise,  even 
then  it  was  his  meat  and  his  drink  to  do  the  will  of  his 
Father  in  heaven.  Such  holiness  must  have  been  spon- 
taneous, inborn,  Divine  :  not  derived,  not  created,  not 
developed,  but  inherent  in  himself,  identical  with  him- 
self, inalienable  from  himself. 

And  this  is  something  which  stamps  Christ  as  a 
unique  personality  in  the  history  of  humanity,  which 
distinguishes  him  from  all  others.  This  Holy  Child 
Jesus,  this  holy  youth,  this  holy  young  man,  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  of  whom  we  cannot  think  as  being  ever  at 
any  stage  of  his  life,  other  than  holy — this  is  a  phe- 
nomenon which  the  world  has  never  elsewhere  seen. 
It  is  a  miracle,  one  which  makes  every  other  miracle 
possible,  which  justifies  Christianity  itself  as  the  greatest 
of  all  miracles. 

3.  Again  the  youth  of  Christ  is  of  peculiar  signifi- 
cance in  connection  with  his  mission  as  one  of  sorrow. 
Christ  came  into  this  Avorld  to  suffer.  "The  Son  of 
Man  came  ...  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many." 
"He   is  despised  and  rejected  of  men,  a  Man  ofSor- 


SERMONS.  345 

rows  and  acquainted  with  grief."  Was  ever  grief  like 
His?  Gethsemane  with  its  cup  of  agony!  Calvary 
with  its  cross  of  woe !  More  bitter  agony,  darker  woe, 
earth  has  never  known,  never  will  know.  "  Father,  if 
it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me."  "  My  God, 
my  God !  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ? "  If  Christ 
must  needs  suffer  these  things,  was  it  not  well  that  he 
should  suffer  them  in  his  youth  when  all  his  powers  for 
endurance,  whether  of  body  or  of  mind,  were  at  their 
highest  and  best.  And  yet  if  Christ  must  live  the  life 
of  the  cross,  as  v/ell  as  die  the  death  of  the  cross,  is  it 
not  a  relief  that  His  agony  was  not  prolonged  through 
three  score  years  and  ten  ?  Do  we  not  feel  grateful  to 
remember  that  if  he  suffered  intensely,  he  did  not  suffer 
long ,  that  so  few  years  sufficed  to  enable  him  to  say, 
"It  is  finished." 

At  the  same  time  the  thought  of  his  youth  gives  in- 
creased reality  and  intensity  to  his  sorrow.  He  suf- 
fered when  his  capability  for  suffering,  as  well  as  for 
enduring,  or  for  enjoying,  was  at  its  highest.  When 
to  most  men  hope  is  brightest,  enjoyment  is  keenest, 
life  is  richest  in  promise— then  it  was  that  the  darkest 
cloud  rested  on  Jesus  and  his  soul  was  exceeding  sor- 
rowful, even  unto  death.  Can  you  doubt  the  reality, 
the  depth,  the  keenness  of  his  anguish  ? 

But  thanks  be  to  God  !  Death  is  swallowed  up  in 
victory  !  The  cloud  parts,  heaven  opens ;  and  we  be- 
hold the  Conqueror  of  Death,  radiant  with  immortal 
youth,  ascend  the  throne  forever.  And  this  leads  me  to 
say  in  the  next  place  that 

4.  Christ's  undying  youth  makes  him  a  fitting  rep- 
resentative of  Heaven  and  Immortality.  Christ  has 
brought  life  and  immortality  into  light.  Is  it  not  fit- 
ting that  He  who  is  come  to  reveal  them,  to  be  the 
embodiment  of  heaven  and  eternity's  highest  excellen- 


34^  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS, 

cies  and  glories,  should  be  thought  of  as  forever  young? 
Without  Christ,  what  should  we  know  of  the  hereafter  ? 
Take  Christ  away  and  what  remains  ?  The  witchery 
of  the  soft  blue  sky,  you  say,  remains,  the  stars  shed 
their  gentle  radiance,  the  ocean  murmurs  its  deep-toned 
harmonies,  and  the  mountains  lay  their  mighty  spell  on 
the  soul,  the  grand  processions  of  nature  move  on, 
evolving  phase  after  phase  of  beauty  and  sublimity — 
but  wherefore  ?  What  is  the  end  of  all  ?  Alas  !  all 
these  processes  of  life,  glory,  and  joy,  hasten  into  an 
abyss  of  darkness.     Over  all  death  reigns.      Ah ! 

"  That  one  word  death  comes  over  my  sick  brain, 
Wrapping  my  vision  in  a  sudden  swoon, 
Blotting  the  gorgeous  pomp  of  sun  and  shade." 

Its  dark  shadow  bounds  our  vision.  Beyond  it  we 
can  not  see.  It  is  the  last  word  of  life.  "  Man  dieth, 
and  wasteth  away ;  yea,  man  giveth  up  the  ghost,  and 
where  is  he  ?  Where  is  he  ?  Is  he  at  all  ?  Who 
/  knows?  Where  Christ  is  unknown  what  is  the  future 
but  a  vast  unknown,  a  guess,  a  Perhaps?  What  is 
death  but  a  leap  in  the  dark  ?  But  lo !  Christ  comes, 
and  all  is  light.  He  comes  as  the  very  spirit  and  au- 
thor of  light.  He  comes  that  men  might  have  life  and 
might  have  it  more  abundantly.  He  comes  from 
heaven  into  our  earth,  and  brings  heaven  with  him. 
He  is  the  representative  of  the  glory  that  is  beyond, 
the  glory  that  is  to  be  revealed.  He  stands  before  us 
in  immortal  youth,  in  the  beauty  of  the  life  to  come. 
To  behold  him  is  to  gaze  on  immortality.  To  have 
h.im  is  to  have  eternal  life.  To  be  with  him  is  to  be  in 
heaven.  Christ  has  come  to  show  the  world  that  there 
is  no  old  age  in  heaven,  that  eternity  is  everlasting 
youth. 

5.  The  youth  of  Christ  again  gives  peculiar  meaning 
to  the  title — "Son  of  God" — so  often  given  in  Scrip- 


SERMONS.  347 

ture.  When  we  think  of  God  in  hi's  Infinite  Life, 
we  naturally  think  of  him  as  existing  from  eternity. 
He  "only  hath  immortality"  as  an  essential  underived 
attribute  of  his  Being,  and  yet  man  too  hath  an  immor- 
tality which  God  has  given  him.  But  of  God  alone 
can  it  be  said  that  He  is  without  beginning,  as  well  as 
without  end.  "Before  the  mountains  were  brought 
forth,  or  even  Thou  hadst  formed  the  earth  and  the 
world,  even  from  everlasting  to  everlasting,  Thou  art 
God."  There  never  was  a  time,  there  never  was  an 
eternity  where  God  was  not.  While  the  earth  was 
forming  during  those  long  aeons,  which  were  like  waves 
on  the  ocean  of  eternity,  each  wave  itself  an  ocean, 
itself  an  eternity  almost — God  was.  Before  all  material 
existence,  while  only  heaven  and  its  spiritual  hosts  lay 
in  the  shadow  of  the  Divine  Glory — God  was.  Before 
all  created  existence,  before  there  was  a  creature's  eye 
to  see,  or  ear  to  hear,  or  mind  to  think — God  was  1 
alone !  reigning  in  the  boundless  empire  of  his  own 
infinity,  self-subsistent,  self-sufficient,  all  in  all !  What, 
then,  shall  we  call  him  ?  Let  us  name  him  with  Daniel, 
"Ancient  of  Days."  With  Moses  and  Isaiah  let  us 
call  him  Eternal  God !  But  shall  we  therefore  think 
that  his  eye  ever  waxes  dim,  that  his  ear  ever  grows 
heavy,  that  his  arm  becomes  faint,  that  age  clouds  his 
intelligence,  enfeebles  his  activities,  diminishes  his  joy, 
or  chills  his  heart?  Nay,  verily,  the  Ancient  of  Days 
is  also  the  Youthful  of  Days  forever.  For  behold  him 
who  calls  himself  the  "only  begotten  Son  of  God," 
whom  the  Father  calls  "My  beloved  Son."  Do  you 
see  aught  of  decay,  of  decrepitude,  of  age  in  him  ? 
Not  the  faintest  shadow.  His  are  the  fulness,  the 
strength,  the  glory  of  perpetual  youth.  Such,  there- 
fore, as  he  is,  such  is  God.  For  what  do  we  mean 
when  we  call  Christ  the  Son  of  God?     Do   v\^e  mean 


348  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

that  he  is  less  than  the  Father,  that  he  is  younger,  that 
his  eternity  is  not  the  equal  of  the  Father's  ?  Nothing 
of  the  kind,  and  they  who  think  so  have  failed  to  grasp 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  truths  in  Christ's  revelation 
of  the  Father.  But  the  meaning  is  that  Christ  is  the 
perfect  representative  of  the  Father,  that  he  is  the 
exact  embodiment  of  his  attributes,  the  express  image 
of  his  person,  the  reproduction  of  his  infinite  perfec- 
tions, the  full  heir  of  all  his  glories,  who  can  say  to 
his  Father  :  "All  things  are  mine!"  In  his  Sonship 
he  embodies  accordingly  the  life  of  God,  let  me  say, 
the  youth  of  God.  In  Christ  we  see  that  God  is  for- 
ever young,  that  the  Intelligence  of  God  is  forever 
young,  that  the  Power  of  God  is  forever  young,  that 
the  heart  of  God  is  forever  young,  that  the  Eternity  of 
God  is  eternal  youth.  Yes — in  the  face  of  Jesus 
Christ  the  awful  mysterious  reality  of  God's  eternity 
smiles  upon  us  with  the  sweet  attractive  loveliness  of 
youth,  winning  our  unshrinking  confidence,  our  unfal- 
tering trust.     Once  more : 

5.  The  youth  of  Christ  is  a  fact  of  inestimable  precious- 
ness  in  assisting  our  conception  of  Christ's  brotherhood. 
How  easy  it  becomes  for  us  to  think  of  Christ  as  our 
brother,  as  we  remember  his  youth  when  he  ascended 
to  the  right  hand  of  God.  "  I  go  to  your  Father,  and 
to  my  Father,"  said  he  to  his  disciples,  just  before 
leaving  them.  And  so  he  parted  from  them,  as  a 
brother  from  his  brethren.  But  such  as  Christ  was  when 
he  ascended  to  heaven,  such  he  is  to-day — our   brother ! 

He  is  there  as  the  first-born  of  the  family  of  God,  as 
the  bond  which  unites  all  the  members  of  that  family  in 
one  heavenly  brotherhood,  which  also  unites  that  broth- 
erhood to  the  Father  of  all.  As  on  earth  he  was  the 
representative  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  so  in  heaven 
he  represents  the  brotherhood  of  man.      From  Eternity 


SERMONS. 


349 


the  Son  of  God — through  Eternity,  the  Son  of  Man — 
made  in  all  things  like  unto  his  brethren,  who  is  not 
ashamed  to  call  them  brethren.  He  is  the  Perfect  Man 
— humanity  in  its  highest  state  of  beauty,  of  glory,  and 
of  strength.  He  is  the  unchangeable  type  of  the  race, 
to  which  each  one  of  his  brethren  will  be  exalted. 
' '  For  whom  God  did  foreknow  he  also  did  predestinate 
to  be  conformed  to  the  image  of  his  Son,  that  he  might 
be  the  first-born  among  many  brethren."  What  then  do 
we  learn  in  regard  to  the  Future  of  Humanity,  as  we 
contemplate  this  one  Elder  Brother?  We  learn  that  as 
the  Eternal  Life  of  the  Godhead  is  Youth,  so  also  is 
the  Eternal  life  of  perfected  humanity  Youth.  "Now 
are  we  the  Sons  of  God,  and  it  doeth  not  yet  appear 
what  we  shall  be,  but  we  know  that  when  he  shall  ap- 
pear, we  shall  be  like  him." 

Like  him  in  eternal  youth :  hke  him  in  the  bloom, 
the  vigor,  the  freshness,  and  joyousness  of  immortality. 
No  more  weariness  of  body  or  of  mind,  no  more  dim- 
ness of  vision,  no  more  feebleness  of  sense,  physical  or 
spiritual:  no  more  vacancy  of  thought,  no  more  exhaus- 
tion of  feeling,  no  growing  infirmity  of  intellect,  or  de- 
bility of  will :  no  deepening  of  the  shadows  as  the  night 
approaches :  no  passing  away  of  the  summer  of  the 
heart :  no  withering  of  life's  glories  as  the  winter  draws 
nigh :  no  alienation,  or  unbelief,  no  sin  or  despair  to 
blight  with  hopeless  age. 

Perennial  youth  is  the  prerogative  of  every  one  of 
Christ's  brethren — a  youth  ever  renewing  itself  by  par- 
taking of  His  Fulness,  who  is  the  Fountain  of  the  Life 
Immortal. 


XVII. 

BEARING  EACH  OTHER'S   BURDENS. 

Galatians  6:2.     "  Bear  ye  one  another's  burdens,  and  so  fulfill  the  law  of  Christ.'* 

You  are  all  familiar  with  the  picture  set  before  us  by 
the  opening  lines  of  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress,  "I 
dreamed,  and  behold  I  saw  a  man  clothed  with  rags, 
standing  in  a  certain  place,  with  his  face  from  his  own 
house,  a  book  in  his  hand,  and  a  great  burden  upon  his 
back."  That  burden  was  indeed  a  special  burden. 
You  remember  how  the  bearer  was  delivered  from  that 
burden.  "I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  just  as  Christian 
came  up  with  the  cross,  his  burden  loosed  from  off  his 
shoulders,  and  fell  from  off  his  back,  and  so  continued 
to  do  till  it  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  sepulchre,  where 
it  fell  in,  and  I  saw  it  no  more."  The  burden  of  which 
Bunyan  dreamed  is  doubtless  the  most  serious  bur- 
den of  Hfe,  the  burden  of  sin  and  guilt.  It  is  not, 
however,  the  only  burden  which  is  laid  upon  us  all 
along  our  earthly  journey.  They  arc  the  inseparable 
accompaniments  of  our  sinful  mortality,  and  of  our  life 
discipline.  We  are  freed  from  them  only  by  death. 
These  are  the  burdens  of  which  the  text  speaks.  These 
burdens  vary  much.  Each  one's  burden  is  not  the 
same  with  that  of  his  neighbor.  The  burden  of  one 
is  lighter  than  that  of  another.  There  are  those  who 
(350) 


SERMONS.  351 

are  almost  or  quite  unconscious  of  their  burdens,  and 
their  case  is  the  saddest  of  all.  These  words  imply 
that  all  have  one  burden.  From  them  we  may  infer 
the  Bible  theory  of  life.  What  is  life?  Is  life  worth 
living  ?  These  are  the  questions.  There  are  those 
who  picture  it  as  a  gay  holiday,  made  up  of  mirth  and 
music  and  sunshine ;  not  a  cloud  overhead,  not  a  thorn 
in  the  way,  no  burden  to  bear,  no  weary,  footsore 
march,  nothing  but  the  present,  seizing  the  day,  bask- 
ing in  the  sunshine,  dreaming. 

Others  paint  it  in  dark  and  dismal  lines,  as  a  day  of 
clouds,  and  rain,  and  chilling  storms ;  as  a  valley  of 
shadows,  a  desert  of  dead  hopes,  a  Golgotha  of  perished 
and  perishing  travelers,  who  have  fallen  by  the  way, 
crushed  by  their  loads. 

The  Bible  picture  of  life  is  neither  this  nor  that.  It 
is  neither  a  gala  day,  nor  a  day  of  lamentation;  neither 
idle  play,  nor  hopeless  agony,  neither  the  laughter  of 
fools,  nor  the  wail  of  the  despairing.  It  is  indeed  a 
pilgrimage,  a  sad  and  weary  one  to  many,  yet  not  with- 
out its  joys;  a  long  pilgrimage  it  may  be,  yet  not 
without  its  rests,  through  the  wilderness,  yet  by  many 
an  Elim  of  fountains  and  palms;  a  burden-laden  pil- 
grimage, and  yet  the  toil  of  which  may  be  lessened 
and  its  pleasures  enlarged,  if  we  heed  the  voice  of  wis- 
dom, and  seek  to  "  bear  one  another's  burdens,  and  so 
fulfill  the  law  of  Christ "  : 

"  Not  enjoyment  and  not  sorrow 
Is  our  destined  end  or  v/ay, 
But  to  act  that  each  to-morrow, 
Find'us  further  than  to-day." 

Find  us  further,  find  our  brother  also  further  than 
to-day,  helped  by  us  to  bear  his  load,  and  to  take 
some  steps  forward  which  without  our  help  he  could 
not  have  taken. 


352  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

What  each  one's  burden  is  he  best  knows  himself. 
"The  heart  knoweth  his  own  bitterness."  "Every 
man  shall  bear  his  own  burdens."  There  are  physical 
burdens  which  many  have  to  hear.  Their  life  is  loaded, 
handicapped  down  with  infirmity  or  disease.  There  is  a 
limitation  of  sense,  or  of  function,  which  narrows  for 
them  the  channels  of  enjoyment  or  of  culture.  A  con- 
stant sense  of  pain  adds  a  drop  of  bitterness  to  every 
cup.  Brain,  nerve,  limb,  heart,  lung,  cries  out  its  dis- 
cord.     A  shadoAV,  like  that  of  death,  is  not  far  off. 

There  are  mental  burdens,  burdens  of  mental  infir- 
mity or  disease,  the  source  of  which  is  rather  in  the 
body,  and  which  becloud  the  life  with  apprehension 
and  pain,  burdens  also  which  are  more  purely  intellect- 
ual, doubts,  discouragement,  perplexity,  from  dealing 
with  the  dark  problems  of  being.  There  are  spiritual 
burdens  which  come  upon  us  through  our  spiritual 
shortcomings,  through  the  infirmity  of  v/ill,  the  preva- 
lence of  passion,  the  power  of  temptation,  through 
conflict  with  the  world  without  or  with  self  within. 
There  are  burdens  which  form  part  of  our  heritage. 
We  inherit  them  from  those  v/ho  have  gone  before,  by 
the  laws  of  hereditary  transmission,  social  liability,  re- 
pressive responsibility.  We  are  born  into  the  world, 
many  of  us  with  fetters  on  our  limbs,  with  weights 
around  our  necks. 

There  are  burdens  which  are  rolled  on  us  by  Prov- 
idential dispensations — business  perplexities,  financial 
embarrassments,  failures,  family  troubles,  national  ca- 
lamities, losses,  death.  There  are  burdens  which  others 
lay  on  us  by  their  follies,  unkindness  or  unfaithfulness, 
suspicion,  calumny,  ill-will,  injurious  dealing.  With 
many  of  us  the  great  question  is  how  to  get  rid  of  our 
own  burdens,  or  if  not  how  to  get  rid  of  them  alto- 
gether,   at  least   how    to   lighten  them,   how   to   carry 


SERMONS.  353 

them  with  the  most  ease  and  comfort  to  ourselves.  I 
am  far  from  saying  that  we  are  not  to  consider  this 
question.  The  right  disposition  of  our  own  burdens  is 
one  of  the  most  important  problems  in  life.  It  is  a 
question  of  infinite  practical  moment  to  each  one  of 
us — how  shall  I  deal  most  wisely  with  that  which  God 
lays  on  me  to  bear  as  part  of  life's  discipline?  How 
shall  I  secure  that  my  burdens  shall  not  hinder  me, 
crush  me,  wear  me  out?  How  shall  I  avoid  getting 
bitter  or  rebellious?  How  shall  I  bear  my  load,  when 
bear  I  must,  so  as  to  learn  patience,  to  grow  more 
humble,  to  gain  strength,  to  build  up  my  manhood? 
I  say  this  is  a  legitimate  question  to  ask. 

But  that  is  certainly  a  low  view  of  life  which  stops 
with  our  own  burdens.  The  selfish  motto — "every 
man  for  himself,"  is  abhorrent  to  every  generous  in- 
stinct. It  is  earthly,  sensual,  devilish.  The  dictates 
even  of  natural  humanity  protest  against  it.  The  man 
who  hardens  his  heart  against  the  appeal  of  suffering 
and  want,  who  holds  back  his  hand  from  lightening 
the  load  under  which  his  brother  is  staggering,  is  a 
reprobate  anywhere,  even  heathendom  repudiates  him, 
much  more  does  Christianity  condemn  him.  For  as 
the  text  says,  to  bear  one  another's  burdens  is  to  fulfill 
the  law  of  Christ.  Christ's  law  is  Love.  All  His 
teachings  inculcate  the  obligation  of  mutual  service. 
Nay,  more.  He  is  our  example.  "  Himself  took  our 
infirmities  and  bare  our  sicknesses."  Bear  ye  one 
another's  burdens,  and  so  "fulfill  the  law  of  Christ." 
What  then  does  this  precept  imply? 

I.  It  implies  that  first  of  all  we  should  acquaint  our- 
selves with  one  another's  burdens.  It  is  a  common 
proverb  that  one-half  the  world  does  not  know  how 
the  other  half  lives.  To  some  extent  this  is  unavoid- 
able.    It  is  not  to  be  expected  that  every  one  should 


354  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

know  all  about  every  body  else.  This  is  not  practic- 
able, neither  would  it  be  desirable.  It  is  not  for  us  to 
pry  into  the  closets  which  hold  our  neighbor's  skele- 
tons. There  are  secrets  too  sacred  to  be  laid  open  to 
the  public  gaze.  There  are  loads  which  no  human 
hand  can  lighten,  much  less  remove. 

If  we  only  did  all  the  duty  that  comes  to  hand  each 
day  in  the  way  of  helping  others,  how  much  more  ra- 
diant with  active  sympathy  our  lives  would  become! 
We  certainly  do  not  make  the  most  of  the  opportuni- 
ties which  our  knowledge  brings  to  us.  But  after  all, 
can  it  be  denied  that  there  is  much  criminal  ignorance 
and  insensibility  on  our  part  touching  the  sufferings 
and  want  of  others?  We  do  not  do  all  that  we  know 
ought  to  be  done,  but  do  we  know  all  that  we  ought  to 
know  ?  Do  we  not  willfully,  or  at  best  thoughtlessly, 
shut  our  eyes  to  the  facts — the  sad,  tragic  facts  which 
are  all  about  us?  Within  eye-range  and  ear-range  of 
our  homes  and  of  our  daily  walks,  sin  and  misery  are 
busy,  their  victims  are  many,  the  need  of  help  is  ur- 
gent, and  we  dream,  or  try  to  dream,  that  all  is  well, 
and  do  nothing.  Sometimes  a  case  comes  to  light,  the 
hidden  evil  reaches  a  climax  ;  the  veil  is  rent,  and  Vv-e 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  abyss  of  corruption  and  wretched- 
ness festering  beneath,  and  we  are  shocked,  our  con- 
science smites  us,  and  we  blame  ourselves  that  we  had 
not  known  of  the  evil  in  time,  and  done  what  we  could 
to  prevent  it.      But  too  late! 

This  is  not  the  law  of  Christ.  He  cam.e  "to  seek 
and  to  save."  The  spirit  of  Christ  seeks  when  and 
whom  it  may  help.  In  true  Christlike  sympathy  there 
is  a  spirit  of  discovery,  a  holy  enterprise  of  love, 
which  goes  forth  to  fijid  lis  object,  which  is  not  satisfied 
while  there  is  one  soul  anywhere  who  needs  help,  one 
want  anywhere  which  can  be  relieved. 


SERMONS.  355 

2.  It  is  not  enough,  however,  to  become  simply  ac- 
quainted with  one  anothers  burdens,  we  should  interest 
ourselves  in  them.  This  sentiment  was  not  unknown 
even  to  the  heathen  heart.  You  are  all  familiar  with 
the  utterance  of  the  Roman  poet,  "I  am  a  m.an,  and 
nothing  pertaining  to  man  is  without  interest  for  me." 
You  remember  how  that  sentiment  filled  a  Roman  the- 
atre with  acclamations. 

Shall  it  be  said  of  Christian  communities,  that  they 
are  insensible  to  the  burdens  which  crush  the  hearts  and 
lives  of  those  about  them?  But  you  will  say  it  is  not 
true  that  they  are  thus  insensible.  It  cannot  be  so ! 
But  are  you  so  sure  of  that?  Do  you  sufficiently  take 
into  account  the  influence,  e.  g.  of  the  law  of  familiar- 
ity ?     We  become  accustomed  even  to  moral  deformity. 

"  Vice  is  arnonster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As  to  be  hated  needs  but  to  be  seen, 
But  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace." 

We  may  not  go  quite  so  far  as  that,  but  the  tendency  is 

that  way. 

In  like  manner  we  become  accustomed  to  suffering, 
our  sensibilities  are  dulled  by  use.  Misery  comes  to  be 
a  matter  of  course.  We  pass  by  a  degraded  hovel,  the 
abode  of  filth  and  wretchedness,  the  lurking  place  of 
vice  and  brutality,  one  of  hell's  caricatures  of  that 
heaven  on  earth,  home.  But  we  go  by,  and  beyond  a 
momentary  sense  of  disgust,  it  may  be,  what  do  we  feel  ? 

There  goes  a  drunkard,  that  hving  satire  on  God's 
image  in  mian,  alas !  the  sight  is  so  common  it  scarcely 
affects  us  at  all.  With  besotted  face  and  maudlin  words, 
he  staggers  on  his  way,  he  reels  into  the  gutter,  and  we 
make  a  jest  of  it  perhaps  and  pass  on,  and  think  no  more 
of  it.  See  the  faces  which  come  forth  out  of  the 
crowded  tenements  of  our  cities,  wan,  poverty-stricken, 
vice-bleared,  epitomes  of  a  life  of  woe,   advertisements 


356  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

of  days  and  nights  of  beastly  degradation,  photographs 
of  all  evil  lusts  and  passions,  we  look  at  them,  they 
look  at  us — and  what  do  they  say  to  us?  how  many  of 
them  awaken  even  a  passing  emotion  of  interest,  of 
genuine  thoughtful  interest  in  our  hearts? 

They  are  to  us  little  m.ore  than  weeds  by  the  way- 
side, or  blasted  trees  in  the  landscape.  Now  I  do  not 
say  that  this  is  altogether  blameworthy.  We  are  all 
conscious  of  it,  even  the  best,  most  humane ;  and  to  a 
large  extent  it  is  unavoidable,  the  natural  result  of  the 
law  of  familiarity. 

But  it  does  show  the  danger  to  which  we  are  all  ex- 
posed— a  danger  too,  I  venture  to  say,  into  which  we  all 
fall  more  or  less,  of  becoming  culpably  indifferent  to 
the  burdens  with  which  our  brothers  and  sisters  are 
struggling,  and  which  claim  our  attention  and  help 
wherever  we  go.  We  must  be  on  our  guard  against  this 
hardening  process.  We  must  fight  this  tendency  to 
apathy  and  self-indulgence,  this  fatalistic  selfish  ac- 
quiescence in  the  crushing  out  of  others,  provided  only 
that  our  own  burdens  are  easily  borne.  We  must  keep 
our  hearts  tender  and  soft. 

Let  us  never  forget  that  we  are  members  one  of  an- 
other ;  that  if  one  member  suffer  all  the  members  suffer 
with  it. — He  who  liveth  in  pleasures,  who  liveth  in  and 
for  himself,  is  dead  while  he  liveth,  that,  after  all,  sel- 
fishness is  suicide,  and  he  who  is  dead  to  the  interests 
of  others,  sacrifices,  murders  in  the  end  his  own.  "  Who- 
soever will  save  his  life  shall  lose  it." 

3.  It  is  not  enough,  however,  to  be  interested  simply 
in  the  burdens  of  others. 

The  text  enjoins  sympathy  which  is  more  than  a 
feeling  of  interest  towards  those  who  need  our  help. 
Sympathy,  as  the  word  denotes,  is  fellow-feeling,  feeling 
wzV// others,  not  simply  toward,  with  regard  to  them,  and 


SERMONS.  357 

taking  their  burdens  on  ourselves  so  that  we  shall  feel 
them  to  some  extent,  as  those  do  who  bear  them, 
"Remember  those  that  are  in  bonds,  as  bound  with 
them,  and  them  who  suffer  adversity  as  being  yourselves 
also  in  the  body."  Put  yourself  in  his  place,  as  an  old 
proverb  has  it,  or  in  the  more  precise  language  of  in- 
spiration, "Put  your  own  shoulder  under  your  brother's 
yoke."  Realize  for  yourself  the  conditions,  the  trials, 
the  weakness,  the  want,  the  weariness,  the  embarrass- 
ment, the  sorrow  of  your  brother. 

This  is  one  of  the  sacred  uses  of  imagination.  This 
faculty  is  not  given  us  for  aesthetic  or  artistic  uses 
merely.  To  fill  the  mind's  gallery  with  pictures  of 
beauty  and  sublimity,  is  not  its  only,  perhaps  not  its 
highest  function  in  this  state  of  trial  and  suffering.  It 
has  also  an  ethical  vocation.  It  is  one  of  the  factors  of 
life's  moral  discipline.  It  may  be,  and  it  should  be 
the  agent  of  conscience,  the  hand-maid  of  love.  It 
should  be  trained  to  picture,  to  realize  for  us  the  moral 
conditions  and  necessities  of  others,  so  that  we  may 
wisely  and  efficiently  aid  them. 

You  can  not  give  a  man  moral  help  or  spiritual  re- 
lief, unless  you  understand  and  feel  his  case,  appreciate 
the  peculiarities  of  his  situation,  and  know  through  fel- 
lowship just  what  his  trouble  is,  where  the  burden 
presses  most  heavily.  You  may  not  be  able  to  do  this 
fully,  to  enter  completely  into  the  experience  of  him 
you  would  relieve,  but  there  must  be  something  of  it. 
One  who  has  known  nothing  whatever  of  debt,  can 
render  but  little  service  to  the  debtor.  He  whose  own 
heart  has  never  been  heavy  with  sorrow,  can  do  but 
little  toward  lightening  the  heart  of  another.  The  heart 
that  feels  with  another,  must  prompt  and  guide  the 
hand  which  brings  help  to  another. 

It  w^as  the   recognition   of  this   principle  which  led 


358  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

John  Howard  to  visit  the  prisons  of  Europe,  and  to 
take  up  his  abode  in  lazarettos  and  pest-ships,  that  he 
might  see  with  his  own  eyes,  and  realize  to  some  ex- 
tent in  his  own  experience,  the  suffering  of  those 
v/hom  he  would  befriend.  So  Christ,  our  Great  High 
Priest,  identified  himself  with  our  nature,  and  with  our 
lot,  entered  into  all  our  mortal  experiences,  came  down 
into  the  lowest  walks  of  weakness,  loneliness  and  sor- 
row, that  then,  with  the  power  of  Divine  sympathy,  He 
might  help  and  save  his  brethren.  And  thus  he  has 
left  us  an  example  that  we  should  follow  in  his  steps. 
As  Christ  is  introduced  as  saying  in  the  vision  of  Sir 
Launfal : 

"  The  Holy  Supper  is  kept  indeed 

In  whatsoever  we  share  with  a  brother's  need. 
Not  that  which  we  give,  but  that  which  we  share, 
For  the  gift  Vv'ithout  the  giver  is  bare, 
Who  bestows  himself  with  his  ahns  feeds  three, 
Himself,  his  hungering  neighbor  and  me." 

4.  But  even  this  is  not  enough.  We  must  go  one 
step  further  yet.  To  feel  the  burden  of  another,  is 
not  to  bear  that  burden.  There  are  those  who  find  it 
easy  to  indulge  in  sympathy,  who  enjoy  it  as  a  senti- 
mental luxury,  but  who  are  never  led  by  it  to  do  any- 
thing for  others.  What  does  it  profit  the  poor  seam- 
stress in  the  alley,  who  is  putting  her  heart's  blood  into 
her  stitches,  that  the  fine  madame  around  the  corner 
rocks  herself  while  reading  the  song  of  the  shirt,  and 
revels  in  the  sweet  pathos  of  tears  for  the  unfortunate  ? 
A  thin  skin  is  easily  affected,  and  there  is  a  sympathy 
v/hich  has  no  more  merit  in  its  suffering,  and  which 
is  only  skin-deep. 

How,  then,  are  we  to  bear  one  another's  burdens  ? 
Can  you  take  the  burden  of  another  directly  on  your 
■own  shoulders?  In  some  instances  evidently  you  can. 
If  a  friend   is  staggering  under  a  heavy  load  of  debt, 


SERMONS.  359 

you  can  if  it  should  seem  best  to  do  so — assume  the 
debt  and  pay  it  for  him.  But  ought  you  to  do  this, 
supposing  it  to  be  in  your  power?  That  would  depend 
on  circumstances.  It  might  be  a  noble  thing  to  do, 
provided  the  aggregate  good  resulting  from  it  should 
sufficiently  outweigh  any  incidental  damage  or  grief 
attending  it.  The  cases  are  manifestly  few,  however, 
where  there  can  be  an  absolute  transfer  of  one  man's 
load  to  another's  shoulders.  In  most  cases  the  load  is 
so  much  a  part  of  the  man  himself,  of  his  personality 
and  life,  that  it  can  not  be  shifted.  It  is  of  such  a  load 
that  Paul  says  just  below:  "Every  man  should  bear 
his  own  burden."  How,  then,  can  we  bear  these  bur- 
dens? Or  what  is  it  to  bear  one  another's  burdens 
when  we  can  not  make  them  absolutely  our  own?  I 
answer — it  is  to  undergo  that  amount  of  suffering,  of 
sacrifice  and  of  toil,  with  and  for  another,  which  may 
be  necessary  to  relieve  him  of  his  burden,  so  far  as 
that  may  be  practicable,  or  if  not  to  relieve  him  alto- 
gether, at  least  to  enable  him  to  bear  it.  This  is  the 
law  of  Christ  of  which  Paul  speaks,  the  law  of  love,  in 
other  words,  the  great  Christian  law  of  sacrifice,  the 
highest  law  of  the  moral  universe,  the  law  of  which 
the  life  of  Christ  is  the  Divinest  illustration.  This  law 
requires  not  that  a  man  should  take  on  himself  the  in- 
dividual sufferings  of  another,  but  that  he  sJionld  take 
on  himself  that  kind,  and  that  degree  of  suffering,  of 
toil,  of  sacrifice,  which  is  necessary  to  secure  his  neigh- 
bor's good. 

The  rich  man  is  not  required  to  strip  himself  of  his 
wealth,  to  live  in  a  hovel,  to  clothe  himself  with  rags, 
to  shiver  and  to  famish  in  want,  but  he  is  required  to 
deny  himself  somewhere,  to  live  for  something  else 
than  personal  ease  and  gratification,  to  make  sacrifices 
at  the   call  of  charity  and  duty,   to  undergo  whatever 


360  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

toil  and  anxiety  the  administration  of  his  property  may 
lay  on  him  in  the  spirit  of  true  stewardship,  with  a  view 
not  to  serve  himself,  but  to  help  those  who  cannot  help 
themselves. 

The  man  of  culture  is  required  b)^  this  law  to  hold 
his  attainments  and  powers  at  the  service  of  others,  to 
sacrifice  even  some  of  the  fruits,  rewards,  and  enjoy- 
ments of  culture  in  himself  so  as  to  redeem  others  from 
ignorance,  grossness  and  superstition.  Those  to  whom 
God  has  communicated  of  the  riches  of  his  grace  are  to 
bear  these  riches  to  the  perishing,  and  in  doing  this  are 
to  be  prepared  to  encounter -loss,  obloquy,  privation, 
to  crucify  their  own  feelings,  to  sacrifice  their  prospects, 
to  lose,  if  need  be,  their  lives.  So  the  Son  of  God  gave 
up  the  throne,  and  took  up  the  cross,  laid  aside  his 
glory,  and  clothed  himself  with  shame,  that  he  might 
take  away  our  burdens,  and  give  the  weary  and  heavy 
laden  rest. 

Thus  did  he  fulfil  the  Law  of  Love.  The  truest  and 
wisest  sympathy,  I  think,  is  that  which  will  teach  or  help 
others  to  bear  their  own  burdens.  Is  the  burden  one 
which  may  be  entirely  removed?  Then  the  wisest 
sympathy  is  that  which  will  teach  the  bearer  to  rid 
himself  of  it.  Here  is  a  pauper,  whose  soul  is  pauper- 
ized even  more  than  his  pocket.  What  is  the  best  thing 
you  can  do  for  him?  Teach  him  to  respect  himself,  to 
aspire  to  a  life  of  self-reliance  and  industry,  to  make  a 
man  of  himself  This  may  cost  you  something,  more 
labor,  more  anxiety,  more  weariness  of  heart  than  if 
you  should  buy  him  a  cottage,  and  set  him  up  in  it ; 
but  can  you  doubt  which  would  be  the  better  way  of 
bearing  his  burden  ? 

That  ignorant  man  whose  mental  barrenness  makes 
him  more  helpless  than  the  brute  creation,  for  he  has 
not  the  instinct  of  the  brute  to  educate  himself — what  is 


SERMONS.  361 

the  best  thing  you  can  do  for  him  ?  Help  him  out 
of  his  imbecility  and  stupefaction  into  capacity  and 
usefulness.  Help  the  vicious  to  throw  away  the 
shackles  which  fetter  them,  to  overcome  the  habits 
which  enslave  them,  the  appetites  which  degrade  them, 
and  to  practice  self-restraint,  purity,  and  manly  en- 
deavor. Thus  do  you  not  only  bear  the  burdens  of 
others,  but  bear  them  away,  aye,  and  roll  them  into  the 
sepulchre. 

If  however,  the  burden  may  not  be  laid  down  until 
death  comes  with  rest  to  the  weary,  then  that  is  the 
wisest  sympathy  which  teaches  the  suffering  in  humil- 
ity, resignation,  and  silence,  or  even  with  trustfulness 
and  joy,  to  carry  the  burden  until  the  Father's  hand 
which  laid  it  shall  take  it  away.  For  there  are  burdens 
which  can  be  laid  down  only  with  the  life.  They  who 
bear  them  know  what  they  are.  You  or  I  cannot  bear 
them  for  another,  nor  take  them  away — and  yet  we 
may  do  m.uch  to  lighten  them,  if  our  own  lives  but 
shine  forth  with  sympathy,  with  patience,  with  cheer- 
fulness, with  courage,  with  faith  in  Christ.  The  very 
presence  of  Christ  is  rest  to  the  weary:  and  what  is  true 
of  Christ  is  true  of  Christ's  spirit,  wherever,  in  whom- 
soever found. 

In  our  selfish  moods  we  are  tempted,  it  may  be,  to 
complain  of  this  arrangement,  which  makes  us  our 
brethren's  burden-bearers.  "Where  is  thy  brother?" 
said  God  to  Cain.  "Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?"  v/as 
the  reply.  Ah  !  that  old  question,  how  it  keeps  jump- 
ing to  our  lips !  Have  I  not  my  own  burden  to  carry  ? 
and  is  not  that  enough?  Why  should  I  worry  myself 
about  another's?  In  our  better  moods,  indeed,  we  are 
ashamed  of  this  spirit,  ashamed  that  we  have  to  fight  so 
against  it.  But  is  not  this  Divine  arrangement  a  beau- 
tiful and  a  loving  one  ?     What  if  the  world  were  consti- 


362  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

tilted  on  that  Cain  theory,  that  selfish  principle,  every 
man  his  own  keeper?  What  an  unlovely  place  it  would 
be !  Misery  is  bad  enough,  but  selfishness  is  misery  in 
hell. 

On  the  other  hand,  this  law  of  reciprocal  sympathetic 
help,  sheds  the  fragrance  of  the  rose,  even  over  the 
thorns  of  the  wilderness.  Brighter  than  the  sunbeam  is 
the  answering  look  of  gratitude  from  relieved  distress. 
Sweeter  than  the  droppings  of  the  honey-comb  are  the 
yearnings  and  tears  of  pity.  More  thrilling  than  the 
song  of  triumph,  is  the  conscious  joy  of  rescuing  the 
perishing. 

The  poor  we  have  always  with  us,  and  so  the  weak, 
the  suffering,  the  struggling,  the  heavy  laden,  we  have 
always  with  us.  The  more  we  feel  for  them  and  with 
them,  the  more  lovingly  and  absolutely  we  surrender 
ourselves  to  their  service — the  stronger  shall  we  be,  the 
gentler,  the  purer,  the  more  helpful,  more  godlike 
shall  we  grow. 

And  do  you  not  know  this,  moreover,  and  I  close 
with  this  thought:  To  bear  each  other's  burdens  is  the 
best  way  to  bear  your  own?  Sometimes  a  man  gets 
rid  of  his  own  burden  altogether,  as  soon  as  he  ad- 
dresses himself  to  the  relief  of  others.  This  is  es- 
pecially true  of  those  burdens  which  grow  out  of  a 
selfish  life,  or  at  least  out  of  a  life  too  much  occupied 
with  self  And  how  many  of  our  burdens  are  of  this 
class?  We  dwell  in  the  shadow  of  our  own  thoughts 
and  feelings;  we  think  of  our<5elves  ;  we  plan  for  our- 
selves ;  we  judge  of  everything  by  its  relations  to  our- 
selves, and  we  thus  heap  up  for  ourselves  doubts,  anx- 
ieties, disappointments,  failure?,  which  well  nigh  crush 
us.  And  the  more  we  live  in  and  for  ourselves,  the 
more  we  mope,  and  pine,  and  fret,  and  fume,  because 
of  these   grievances,  the  heavier  do  they  become,  and 


i 


SERMONS.  363 

the  more  do  they  chafe  and  weary  us.  But  let  ns  forget 
self,  let  us  go  to  the  help  of  others,  and  lift  at  their 
burdens,  and  lo !  we  lose  our  own;  our  doubtings,  and 
fearings,  and  strivings  vanish ;  we  are  free  men.  And 
whatever  may  be  the  burden,  the  law  is  the  same.  Do 
your  part  in  bearing  your  brethren's  burdens,  and  your 
own  will  be,  if  not  wholly  removed,  at  least  made  much 
lighter.  There  is  the  reaction  of  mutual  sympathy ; 
there  is  the  inspiration  of  love ;  there  is  the  joy  of 
helping  others;  there  is  the  assurance  of  the  Divine 
favor ;  there  is  tlie  sense  of  hberty,  elevation  and  power, 
which  comes  from  conscious  sympathy  with  God,  and 
conscious  nearness  to  Him.  How  much  better  this 
than  to  be  staggering  and  stumbling  under  your  own 
load,  thinking  only  of  your  own  miserable  self!  Ah ! 
my  hearers,  there  is  no  service  so  poor  as  the  service 
of  self.  There  is  no  such  poor  paymaster.  There  is 
no  life  so  fruitless,  so  joyless,  and,  in  the  end,  so  help- 
less, as  the  life  which  has  never  brought  help  to  an- 
other, which  has  never  been  touched  by  the  spirit  of 
Christ,  which  has  never  throbbed  with  his  love  for 
God  and  man.  He  who  cares  only  for  the  world,  who 
lives  only  in  the  present,  only  for  pleasure,  wealth  or 
power,  what  is  there  to  hold  him  up  when  he  feels 
all  giving  away  under  his  feet?  When  the  load  is  too 
heavy,  what  is  there  left  for  him  but  to  sink  under  it 
in  the  dark  depths  of  despair,  it  may  be  to  seek  refuge 
in  the  dark  depths  of  eternity  ?  I  know  in  another  city 
a  Missionary,  aged,  poor,  crippled  and  blind.  For 
more  than  forty  years  he  has  loved  and  lived  for  God's 
poor  in  that  city,  hobbling  about  on  his  crutches  day 
by  day,  feeling  his  way  along  through  the  reeking  al- 
leys and  rickety  tenements,  to  comfort,  help  and  save 
the  needy,  the  sick,  the  degraded,  the  dying.  The 
thousands  of  those  for  whom  he  thus  labors  know,  and 


364  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

love,  and  bless  him.  There  is  not  a  happier  man  under 
God's  sky  to-day  than  he,  for  every  day  he  is  doing 
Christ's  work,  and  every  day  he  finds  his  reward  in 
doing  it.  He  does  not  know  oftentimes  where  to- 
morrow's loaf  is  to  come  from,  and  yet  all  the  gold  of 
California  could  not  tempt  him  from  the  work  he  loves. 
Heavy  as  are  his  own  personal  burdens,  he  knows 
nothing  of  them ;  the  only  burdens  he  knows  are  those 
of  others,  which  in  the  fulfillment  of  the  law  of  love 
he  is  striving  to  bear  for  them. 

I  think  I  would  rather  be  that  poor,  old,  sightless 
cripple,  than  to  be  the  money-king  of  the  market, 
with  all  the  power  which  gold  can  bring,  but  without 
the  love  which  the  lust  of  gold  devours,  and  without 
the  hope  which  the  gold  of  the  universe  can  not  buy. 

Oh,  for  grace  to  be  more  like  Him  who  pleased  not 
himself,  who  took  on  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  who 
bare  our  burdens  in  his  own  body,  who  became  poor 
that  we,  through  his  poverty,  might  be  made  rich. 


PREACHING   CHRIST.* 

My  desire  to-night  in  opening  this  new  Seminary 
year,  is  to  speak  a  word  which  may  tell  to  some  good 
purpose  on  the  work  of  the  year,  and  through  the 
work  of  the  year,  on  the  work  of  your  life.  You  are 
here  to  learn  to  preach,  to  prepare  yourselves  for  the 
business  of  preaching.  What  is  it  to  preach  ?  What 
are  you  to  preach  ?  These  are  two  questions  of  supreme 
interest  to  each  one  of  you.  The  second  question  is 
that  which  I  would  consider  with  you  to-night,  and  the 
answer  to  it  will  carry  with  it  the  answer  to  the  for- 
mer question. 

At  the  same  time  a  brief  preliminary  examination  of 
the  description  which  the  New  Testament  gives  of  the 
act  of  preaching,  will  prepare  the  way  for  an  answer  to 
the  question,  what  are  we  to  preach  ? 

I.  Preaching  is,  let  me  say  to  begin  with,  a  specific 
act  in  the  generic  category  of  teaching.  This  act  of 
teaching  is,  perhaps,  the  highest  practical  function  of 
the  human  intellect.  The  antecedent  process  of  learn- 
ing that  which  is  to  be  taught,  is  doubtless  of  extreme 
importance,  involving  some  of  the  loftiest  speculative 
activities  of  the  mind.  But  the  process  of  teaching  is 
of  paramount   practical   importance.      In  it   is  attained 

*  Although  not  technically  a  sermon,  this  address  (delivered  at  the  Of  eiiing  of 
the  Seminary  year,  Sept.  9,  1886,)  is  so  full  of  the  highest  and  noblest  kind  of  preach- 
ing, that  it  was  thought  best  to  add  it  to  this  volume.  As  the  mature  expression  of 
the  author's  idea  of  preaching,  moreover,  its  title  was  chosen  as  the  title  of  the  vol- 
ume.    The  ser»tons  are  examples  of  how  to  "  preach  Christ." 

(365) 


366  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

the  highest  manifestation  of  mental  power.  The  spirit- 
ual giants  of  the  race  have  been  its  teachers.  And 
this  is  the  fundamental  conception  of  preaching :  teach- 
ing. The  great  commission  is,  "Go  ye  and  teach  all 
nations."  Bring  all  into  Christ's  school,  that  they  may 
learn  Christ,  and  the  things  of  Christ. 

Learning  Christ — that  is  practical  Christianity.  As 
the  Apostle  writes  to  the  Ephesians,  "Ye  have  not  so 
learned  Christ." 

II.  Another  important  New  Testament  term  {xaxayyeX- 
Xtiv)  describes  preaching,  as  announcing,  proclaiming,  pub- 
lishing abroad.  ' '  Christ  whom  we  preach,  (proclaim) 
admonishing  every  man,  and  teaching  every  man  in  all 
wisdom — that  we  may  present  every  man  perfect  in 
Christ."  This  term  suggests  a  solemn,  authoritative  an- 
nunciation of  something  which  is  of  general  moment, 
of  something  which  requires  to  be  publicly  promul- 
gated. It  is  a  term  which  specially  befits  the  Gospel 
Proclamation,  as  a  Divine  Revelation,  as  a  Divine  Mes- 
sage, to  be  carried  everywhere. 

III.  Another  term*  in  frequent  use  {lijayyt)lC,^aQat) 
describes  preaching  as  specifically  the  proclamation  of 
Glad  Tidings.  The  Gospel  is  good  news  to  men.  The 
preacher  is  a  messenger  of  joy  that  brings  the  message 
of  life  to  the  dying,  and  speaks  the  word  of  hope  to 
the  ear  of  despair.  "  How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains 
are  the  feet  of  him  that  bringeth  good  tidings,  that 
publisheth  peace,  that  bringeth  good  tidings  of  good, 
that  publisheth  salvation,  that  saith  unto  Zion,  thy  God 
reigneth." 

IV.  Still  another  term,  perhaps,  the  most  common 
of  all  {x-f]puaaecv)  describes  the  preacher  as  a  herald. 
So  in  one  version  of  the  great  commission:  "Go  ye 
into  all  the  world  and  preach  (herald)  the  Gospel  to 
the  whole  creation."     "  Preach  (herald)  the  Word:  be 


SERMONS.  367 

instant  in  season,  out  of  season."  This  term  describes 
preaching  still  more  definitely  than  the  preceding,  as 
a  mediating  agency,  a  representative  function.  The 
preacher  is  a  representative  man.  He  is  the  ambassa- 
dor of  a  Higher  Power.  He  stands  for  God,  and 
speaks  in  the  name  of  God.  ' '  We  are  ambassadors, 
therefore,  on  behalf  of  Christ,  as  though  God  were 
entreating  by  us,  we  beseech  you  on  behalf  of  Christ, 
be  ye  reconciled  to  God."  This  description  emphasizes 
the  peculiar  personal  relations  of  the  preacher.  He 
represents  not  a  .system,  not  an  institution,  but  a  being 
— a  personality  ;  not  himself,  but  another.  He  is  to 
speak,  not  his  own  v/ords,  but  the  words  which  are 
given  for  the  purpose.  He  is  to  declare,  not  his  own 
notions,  not  his  own  thoughts,  but  the  thoughts,  feel- 
ings, desires,  purposes,  of  Him  who  hath  sent  him 
forth.  There  is  still  another  class  of  terms  of  consid- 
erable extent  and  variety,  which  describes  the  work  of 
preaching  as  a  work  of  serving,  ministering,  helping. 
It  is  the  preacher's  special  function  to  serve  others,  to 
advance  their  interests.  He  is  by  way  of  pre-eminence 
THE  SERVANT,  THE  MINISTER.  The  law  of  sclf-subordi- 
nation,  is  the  distinctive  characteristic  law  of  his  calling. 
It  is  his  peculiar  privilege  to  encourage,  warn,  nurture, 
comfort,  to  apply  the  gospel  to  the  ever-recurring, 
ever-varying  needs  of  humanity,  both  in  its  social  and 
individual  life.  "  Every  Scripture  is  inspired  of  God, 
and  profitable  for  teaching,  for  reproof,  for  correction, 
for  instruction  which  is  in  righteousness,  that  the  man  of 
God  may  be  complete,  furnished  completely  unto  every 
good  work." 

So  much  for  the  act  of  preaching.  Let  us  turn  now 
to  the  contents  of  the  act.  What  are  we  to  preach? 
In  one  word,  we  are  to  preach  Christ,    "Every  day  in 


368  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

the  temple  and  at  home  they  [the  Apostles]  ceased  not 
to  teach  and  to  preach  Jesus,  as  the  Christ." 

"I  determined  not  to  know  anything  among  you, 
save  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified." 

"  We  preach  Christ  crucified,  unto  Jews  a  stumbling 
block,  and  unto  Greeks  foolishness,  but  unto  them  that 
are  called— both  Jews  and  Greeks,  Christ  the  power  of 
God,  and  the  wisdom  of  God." 

"We  preach  not  ourselves,  but  Christ  Jesus  as  Lord." 

This  then  is  preaching  according  to  the  Apostolic  model 
— to  preach  Christ,  or,  taking  the  above  terms,  accord- 
ing to  the  definition  given  of  each: 

I.  To  preach  Christ  is  to  teach  Christ.  Christ  is  the 
v/isdom  of  God,  and  we  are  to  instruct  the  world  in  that 
wisdom.  Paul  speaks  of  "The  dispensation  of  God, 
which  was  given  to  him,  to  fulfill  [fill  to  the  full]  the 
Word  of  God,  even  the  mystery  which   has   been   hid 

from  all  ages,  and  generations which  is  Christ 

in  you,  the  hope  of  glory."  "I  strive  that  they  may 
know  the  mystery  of  God,  even  Christ  in  whom  are  all 
the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge  hidden."  It  is 
the  preacher's  mission  to  unfold  the  mystery,  to  unveil 
the  treasures  of  Divine  Wisdom,  which  are  stored 
within  it,  to  initiate  men  into  this  blessed  secret  of  God, 
which  to  know  is  life  eternal. 

II.  To  preach  Christ  is  still  further  to  announce  Christ, 
to  spread  abroad  His  glory,  to  proclaim  Him  as  King, 
as  Savior,  as  Judge — the  One  for  whom  the  isles  have 
waited,  for  whom  the  centuries  have  prayed. 

III.  And  so,  to  preach  Christ  is  to  proclaim  Him,  as 
the  Joy  of  the  world,  God's  Evangel  of  peace  on  earth — 
and  glory  in  the  highest. 

IV.  To  preach  Christ  is  to  herald  Him — to  voice  His 
invitation,  to  mediate  His  thought,  to  interpret  His  life 


SERMONS.  369 

and  work  to  the  world,  to  go  before  Him,    to   prepare 
His  coming. 

V.  And  finally,  to  preach  Christ  is  to  apply  Christ  as 
the  panacea  of  the  world's  maladies,  as  the  Bread  of 
Life  for  its  hunger,  as  the  Water  of  Life  for  its  thirst, 
as  Heaven's  answer  to  earth's  questioning,  as  God's  so- 
lution of  life's  enigmas.  "In  Him  dwelleth  all  the  ful- 
ness of  the  Godhead  bodily,  and  in  Him  ye  are  made 
full." 

Having  thus  glanced  briefly  at  the  act  of  preaching 
in  its  relations  to  the  theme,  let  us  direct  our  attention 
more  particularly  to  the  theme  itself. 

What  is  it  to  preach  Christ  ? 

(i.)  It  is  not  of  necessity  to  be  all  the  time  using  the 
name  of  Christ  in  our  preaching.  "  Not  every  one  that 
saith  unto  me  Lord,  Lord,  shall  enter  into  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven." 

Not  every  one  that  saith  of  Christ,  Lord,  Lord,  shall 
preach  the  Gospel  of  His  Kingdom.  There  may  be  a 
dry  formal  mechanical  use  of  Christ's  name,  which  is 
utterly  devoid  of  the  spirit  and  life  of  Christ  Himself 
It  has  often  been  remarked  that  the  name  of  God  is  not 
once  found  in  the  book  of  Esther — although  the  book 
of  Esther  is  from  beginning  to  end,  full  of  God.  So  it 
is  conceivable — I  do  not  say  it  is  probable — or  that  un- 
less in  very  exceptional  circumstances,  it  is  at  all  desir- 
able— that  a  sermon  may  scarcely  once  mention  Christ, 
and  yet  be  full  of  Christ,  all  the  way  through. 

(2.)  To  preach  Christ  is  not  of  necessity  to  be  all  the 
time  making  Christ  the  specific  theme  of  the  preach- 
ing. The  sphere  of  which  Christ  is  the  center  is  a 
boundless  universe:  He  irradiates  with  His  own  light, 
every  point  in  that  sphere.  There  are  in  the  Word  of 
God,  themes  without  number,  which  in  their  Biblical 
connections,     receive    a    Divine    consecration.      Indeed 


370  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

there  is  no  legitimate  object  of  human  thought  or  in- 
terest, which,  when  contemplated  in  the  solar  light  of 
this  Divine  Centre,  is  not  transfigured  with  a  new  glory. 

Historic  events  and  epochs,  the  rise  and  fall  of 
Babylon  or  Rome,  the  mission  of  Cyrus,  of  Charle- 
magne, of  Cromwell,  the  thought  of  Plato,  the  song  of 
Virgil,  the  vision  of  Dante,  each  and  all  will  to  the 
Christian  thinker,  reflect  Christ — as  to  the  Christian 
eye  of  Paul  in  Athens,  the  inscription  of  an  altar,  and 
a  line  of  Aratus  shone  with  the  truth  which  Christ  had 
taught  him.  On  the  other  hand,  one  may  take  Christ 
for  the  formal  theme  of  his  sermon,  and  yet  fail  of 
preaching  Christ.  To  be  the  pulse  of  the  preacher's 
thought,  Christ  must  be  the  pulse  of  the  preacher's  life. 
He  must  be  more  than  the  figure-head  of  the  sermon. 
The  sermon  must  flow  out  of  the  head  of  Christ,  as  the 
stream  came  forth  out  of  the  rock,  when  smitten  by  the 
rod  of  Moses.  Thus  let  men  today  drink  of  that  spir- 
itual rock,  which  follows  them — that  rock  which  is 
Christ. 

(3)  And  so  I  remark,  once  again,  there  is  a  differ- 
ence between  preaching  about  Christ,  and  preaching 
Christ.  A  man  may  preach  a  great  deal  about  Christ, 
without  preaching  much  of  Christ  himself.  What  is 
said  about  Christ,  is  largely  the  shell.  It  is — to  borrow 
the  nomenclature  of  philosophy — the  phenomena  in 
Christ,  as  distinguished  from  the  noumena ;  the  cir- 
cumstantial in  Christ,  as  distinguished  from  the  essen- 
tial ;  the  exterior  as  contrasted  with  the  interior.  It  is 
what  they  have  thought  and  said  about  Christ,  rather 
than  what  the  preacher  himself  has  found  in  him. 
It  is  Christ  as  a  creed,  rather  than  Christ  as  a  reality ; 
the  halo,  not  the  living  sun.  The  business  to  which 
the  preacher  is  summoned  is — let  us  never  forget — to 
preach  Christ  Himself. 


SERMONS.  371 

But  to  look  at  the  subject  a  little  more  in  the  con- 
crete, let  us  particularize.  Christ  as  the  subject  of 
preaching,  maybe  regarded:  I.  As  a  Personality;  II. 
As  the  Truth ;  III.   As  the  Life. 

I.  Let  us  consider  the  significance  which  attaches  to 
the  preaching  of  Christ  in  His  personality: 

I.  At  once  the  uniqueness  of  this  personality,  trans- 
fixes our  attention.  He  is  the  God-man;  He  is  the 
man-God.  As  man.  He  is  God ;  as  God,  He  is  man. 
Here  we  have  personality  in  its  most  complex  organ- 
ization. We  have  personality  at  the  same  time  in  its 
most  real,  its  most  energetic,  its  most  vital  manifesta- 
tion. Here,  if  anywhere,  we  may  hope,  will  the  mys- 
tery of  personality  be  solved.  Here,  at  last,  we  shall 
find  its  life-secret — that  in  personality,  which  imparts  to 
life  its  sacredness,  and  to  duty  its  divineness.  I  need 
not  remind  you  of  the  difficulties  which  we  encounter 
as  we  explore  the  realms  of  personality. 

You  look  at  man — what  do  you  see?  On  the  one 
side  his  nature  reaches  so  low  down — he  is  so  earthly 
in  his  affiliations,  he  is  so  bound  up  with  his  physical 
environment,  he  seems  to  be  so  much  a  part  of  the 
world  of  cause  and  effect — as  to  raise  the  question : 
whether  any  special  spiritual  significance  attaches  to 
man's  being  or  destiny,  whether  personality  is  not  after 
all  a  modification  of  matter.  On  the  other  hand,  you 
look  at  personality  in  God,  and  you  encounter  diffi- 
culties which  meet  you  from  the  opposite  side.  You 
carry  personality  up  into  the  region  of  abstract  infini- 
tude, and  you  are  beset  with  metaphysical  perplexities 
and  contradictions — which  suggest  a  doubt  whether  an 
Infinite  Personality  is  possible.  But  you  look  at  Christ 
and  what  do  you  see?  Here  you  behold  a  personality 
which  is  so  decisively,  so  unmistakably  supernatural, 
that   it  is  impossible  to  regard  it  as  a  mere  phase   of 


372  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

natural  development — a  personality  which  is  inexplic- 
able on  any  materialistic  hypothesis.  Here  is  a  con- 
sciousness which  loses  itself  in  the  infinite.  Here  is  a 
Being  using  the  personal  pronoun  I,  who  addresses 
the  Father  as  Thou,  who  speaks  of  Himself  and  the 
Father,  as  We,  who  is  at  the  same  time,  so  completely 
identified  with  our  human  experience,  who  touches  at 
so  many  points  our  common  human  consciousness,  that 
all  metaphysical  difficulties  vanish  in  His  presence. 
Here,  in  a  word,  is  a  Being  who  unites  in  Himself  all 
the  attributes  of  a  human  personality,  with  all  the 
attributes  of  Deity.  Every  instinct  of  our  tempted 
humanity,  clings  to  Him  as  our  Brother.  Every  in- 
stinct of  our  redeemed  humanity,  cries  out  to  Him  as 
our  God.  What  is  the  inference?  Necessarily,  that 
God  in  His  infinite  life,  is  a  person,  and  that  man  in 
his  finite  life  is  a  person.  By  His  mere  personality, 
by  the  reality  of  His  personality,  Christ  vindicates  the 
right,  the  dignities,  the  prerogatives  of  personality  in 
the  realms  alike  of  the  Infinite  and  of  the  finite.  In 
preaching  this  personality,  we  provide  the  surest  anti- 
dote to  the  negations  of  materialistic,  agnostic,  panthe- 
istic doubt  touching  this  fundamental  fact. 

2.  Look  again  for  a  moment  at  the  expressiveness 
of  this  Christ-personality.  We  have  in  it  the  concrete 
embodiment  of  the  greatest  spiritual  realities,  such  as, 
apart  from  Christianity,  would  exist  for  us  simply  as 
abstractions.  He  personalizes  for  us  the  great  divine 
forces  of  the  Universe.  Let  us  look  at  one  or  two 
of  these. 

To  the  modern  intellect,  there  is,  I  suppose,  no  force 
more  overwhelming  in  its  impressiveness  and  fascina- 
tion, than  Law.  The  thinker  of  to-day  lives  under  the 
reign  of  law,  and  glories  in  his  chronology.  ' '  The 
perception   of  this"   [reign   of  law,]    says  the  Duke  of 


SERMONS.  373 

Argyll,  "is  growing  in  the  consciousness  of  men.  It 
grows  with  the  growth  of  knowledge,  it  is  the  delight, 
the  reward,  the  goal  of  science.  From  science  it  passes 
ioto  every  domain  of  thought."  Surely  to  the  eye  of 
science,  Law  is  a  mighty  sublime  force.  You  all  recall 
Hooker's  noble  panegyric  :  "Of  Law  there  can  be  no 
less  acknowledged,  than  that  her  seat  is  the  bosom  of 
God,  her  voice  the  harmony  of  the  world.  All  things 
in  heaven  and  earth  do  her  homage,  the  very  least  as 
feeling  her  care,  the  greatest  as  not  exempted  from  her 
power,  both  angels  and  men  and  creatures  of  what  con- 
dition soever,  though  each  in  different  sort  and  manner, 
yet  all  with  uniform  consent  admiring  her,  as  the 
mother  of  their  peace  and  joy."  But  you  cannot  help 
observing  how  much  of  the  dignity  and  impressiveness 
of  this  eulogy,  as  well  as  of  its  rhetorical  stateliness 
and  glow,  comes  from  its  personification  of  law.  It  is 
no  blind,  impersonal  force,  which  is  here  portrayed 
before  us  ;  it  is  the  Queen  of  the  universe,  the  mother 
of  our  peace  and  joy,  whose  tender  care  of  the  least 
and  the  greatest,  combined  with  her  awe-inspiring 
power,  commands  our  homage  and  admiration.  How 
much  more  winning  is  such  a  representaton  of  Law, 
than  that  which  science  idolizes  ;  that  inexorable  im- 
personal fatality,  which  executes  its  changeless  decree, 
without  love,  or  pity,  or  remorse.  Before  this  latter 
you  tremble — you  cannot  love  it.  And  yet,  where  the 
law  is  not  loved,  there  can  be  no  true  moral  perfection. 
To  obey  the  law,  only  because  you  fear  it — to  obey  it 
when  perchance,  indeed,  you  hate  it,  that  is  to  be  a 
slave.  Hooker's  law,  one  could  love — if  such  law 
there  were  ;  but  alas,  it  is  only  an  allegory.  There  is 
no  such  Queen,  there  is  no  such  mother.  Have  we 
then  no  impersonation  of  law  ?  Let  us  see — what  says 
the   Book?     "In  the   beginning   was  the   Word — and 


374  LLEWELYN    10  AN    EVANS. 

the  Word  was  with  God — and  the  Word  was  God.  The 
same  was  in  the  beginning  with  God.  All  things  were 
made  by  [through]  Him,  and  without  Him  was  not 
anything  made  that  hath  been  made.  In  Him  was  life, 
and  the  life  was  the  light  of  men."  Or,  according  to 
the  margin  of  the  revised  version,  "That  which  hath 
been  made  was  life  in  Him."  What  is  this  Word — 
this  Logos  ?  The  term  explains  itself — it  is  the  expres- 
sion of  the  Divine  Thought,  the  Divine  Intelligence, 
the  Infinite  Reason,  as  we  see  it  voiced  in  the  life,  in 
the  order,  harmony,  movements  of  the  universe.  But 
what  is  this  Infinite  Reason?  It  is  no  impersonal  prin- 
ciple— no  It.  The  Apostle  describing  the  Logos,  says 
HE,  HIM — not  It.  Nay,  more,  he  goes  on  to  say: 
"And  the  Word  became  flesh  (became  man),  and  dwelt 
among  us  full  of  grace  and  truth."  Here  we  have, 
Law  Incarnate,  the  Divine  Law,  speaking,  acting, 
moving  among  men  ;  overflowing  with  grace  and  truth 
and  glory,  as  of  the  only  begotten  of  the  Father ; 
crowned  with  the  majesty  of  an  absolute  authority. 
The  Supreme  authority  for  man  must  ever  be  a  Su- 
preme Will ;  not  a  letter,  not  a  force,  not  a  mere  im- 
pulse or  instinct,  but  a  person,  in  whose  every  word  is 
the  thunder  might  of  God.  "  One  is  your  Master, 
even  Christ." 

"  We  preach  not  ourselves,  but  Christ  Jesus  as  Lord." 
' '  Ye  have  heard  that  it  was  said  to  them  of  old  time, 
thou  shalt  not  kill — but  I  say  unto  you."  "I  came 
not  to  destroy  the  law,  but  to  fulfill— to  fill  up  its  out- 
line, to  vivify,  to  energize  it,  make  it  a  thing — nay, 
rather  a  being — of  life  and  power." 

"  In  His  life,  the  law  appears, 
Drawn  out  in  living  characters." 

The  whole  law  is  summed  up  in  love.      Where  will 

you    find  love  ?     Where,    if  not  in   Christ  ?     What   is 


SERMONS.  375 

love?     What  but  Christ?     "We  love  because  He  first 
loved."     In  Him  is  the  possibility  of  love,    in    Him  is 
the  inspiration  of  love,    He  is  the  Law  of  love.     You 
ask,  what  of  the  Decalogue  ?  I  answer,  it  is  an  invaluable, 
Divine  epitome  of  duty.     Yet  the   Bible    itself  argues 
that  the  New  Covenant  is  better  than  the  Old,  in  that 
it  writes  the  law,   not  on  tables   of  stone,    but  on   the 
living  tablets  of  the  heart ;  and  that  the  law  on  the  heart 
is  Christ  in  the  heart.      In  the  same   line   of  thought, 
we  might  show  that  Christ  is  virtue  personified.      For 
ages,   philosophy  has   exercised  itself  about  the   ques- 
tion :  what  is  virtue  ?     We  may  doubt  whether  the  final 
answer  has  yet  been  found,  we  cannot  doubt,  however, 
that  the    more  of  Christ  is  put   into  the  solution,   the 
more   satisfactory   will   it  be.      Take  the  idea  of  man- 
hood:  what   is  man?     You  listen   to  the   rhapsody  of 
Hamlet:  "what  a  piece  of  work  is  a  man;  how  noble 
in    reason ;   how  infinite  in  faculties ;  in  form  and  mov- 
ing how  express    and  admirable ;  in  action  how  like  an 
angel ;  in  apprehension  how  like  a  God ;  the  beauty  of 
the  world!  the  paragon  of  animals!"     The  description 
dazzles  you  perhaps,    but  leaves  no  permanent  impres- 
sion or  inspiration.     The  next  moment  you  are  tempted 
to  ask  with  the  sam.e  Hamlet,   "To   me,  what  is  this 
quintessence   of  dust  ?"     You   turn  to  the  inspired  ac- 
count of  man's  creation.      "  God  said,  let  us  create  man 
in  our  image,  after  our  likeness" — or  read  Paul's  defini- 
tion—  "Man  is  the  image   and   glory   of  God."     Ah! 
you  say,    "here  is  something  much    more  definite  and 
satisfactory  " — but  alas  :  this  is  a  world  of  sin,  a  v/orld 
of  moral  wreck  and  ruin.     The  image  of  God  is  shat- 
tered and  buried  in  the  debris  of  the  awful  catastrophe, 
where  will  you  find  the  Divine  man?     You  look  to  this 
one  and  to  that  one,  whom  the  world  has  called  great 
— to  its  sages  and  heroes,    its  avatars   and   apotheoses. 


376  LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 

But  no,  each  one  is  a  broken  mirror,  marred  beyond 
recognition.  But  in  Christ  you  see  the  image,  aye,  the 
very  image  of  God — His  glory,  aye,  the  effulgence  of 
the  Divine  glory.  Here  you  see  humanity  at  its  highest, 
its  largest,  its  best.  The  good  in  each  and  in  all,  in  Him 
reaches  its  best,  and  that  in  a  form  to  compel  admira- 
tion, and  to  inspire  imitation. 

Look  at  the  practical  ends,  the  ideals  of  life,  what 
shall  we  aim  at  in  living?  You  say:  we  have  various 
answers — Perfection,  Nobleness,  Symmetry,  Self-culture, 
Self-effacement :  live  for  greatness,  live  for  glory,  live 
for  love.  Well  and  good  !  But  after  all,  how  shadowy, 
how  vague,  how  ineffectual  are  these  ideals  as  motive 
powers  for  the  heart  ?  But  what  says  the  Gospel  ? 
"  Live  for  Christ!"  "Live  so  as  to  gain  Christ — to 
realize  Christ,  to  make  Him  yours,  to  show  Him  forth, 
to  glorify  Him,  to  lose  yourself  in  Him!"  You  Hve 
not  for  an  abstraction,  but  for  a  Person,  and  in  living 
for  that  Person,  you  live  for  greatness,  goodness,  power, 
love,  self-humiliation,  self-exaltation,  life — finding  the 
life  in  losing  it.  Here  the  ideal  and  the  real  meet.  In 
Christ,  the  ideaHst,  the  mystic,  the  man  of  contempla- 
tion, the  realist,  the  scientist,  the  man  of  action each 

finds  his  goal.  "As  many  of  you  as  were  baptized  into 
Christ,  did  put  on  Christ."  "There  can  be  neither 
Jew  nor  Greek,  there  can  be  neither  bond  nor  free, 
there  can  be  no  male  and  female,  for  ye  are  all  one  man 
in  Christ  Jesus."     This  leads  to  the  remark: 

3.  That  to  preach  Christ,  is  to  preach  character. 
The  poet  tells  us  thai  "the  proper  study  of  mankind  is 
man."  Most  assuredly  it  is  the  central  study.  None 
is  more  attractive,  more  popular,  more  universal.  Cul- 
ture, itself,  has  taken  the  name  of  Jwnimiify.  History, 
biography,  poetry,  fiction,  owe  much  of  their  hold  upon 
us    to   the   charm   of  character,   the  spell    of  heroism. 


SERMONS.  "^"jy 

The  heroic  song  of  Homer,  the  dramatic  verse  of  Shakes- 
peare, the  historic  page  of  Tacitus,  or  Gibbon,  never 
lose  their  fascination.  The  page  which  photographs  a 
human  soul,  is  immortal.  The  throb  of  human  passion 
thrills  the  ages.  The  crystallization  of  a  tear  outshines 
and  outlasts  the  diamond.  In  preaching  Christ,  the 
pulpit  appeals  to  this  universal  and  imperishable  in- 
stinct. It  presents  a  heroic,  a  Divine  Ideal,  such  as  no 
imagination  has  conceived ;  a  character,  the  charm  of 
which  is  deathless,  which,  the  better  it  is  known,  the 
more  it  fascinates,  from  age  to  age.  The  world  is  never 
wearied  with  the  study  of  the  personality  and  the  Hfe 
of  Jesus.  The  growing  light  of  the  centuries,  but  re- 
veals more  and  more  its  impressiveness,  its  beauty,  its 
power. 

4.  No  less  true  is  it,  that  to  preach  character,  is  to 
preach  Christ.  This  is  implied  in  what  has  been  said 
already,  respecting  the  abstract  idea  of  character.  To 
the  question:  ''What  is  character?"  there  is,  as  we 
have  seen,  but  one  definite,  tangible  answer.  You  get 
the  clearest,  fullest  analysis  of  character  in  the  analysis 
of  Christ.  But,  so  also,  where  we  come  to  the  analy- 
sis of  individual  character.  A  large  part  of  the  Bible, 
is  biography.  Christ  as  the  centre  of  the  Bible,  is  the 
centre  of  its  biography.  The  lives  of  the  Saints  are  so 
many  broken  lights  of  the  ' '  Strong  Son  of  God,  Im- 
mortal Love."  The  key  of  the  life  of  Abraham,  of 
Moses,  of  Joshua,  of  David,  of  Paul,  Peter,  John,  is 
found  in  the  story  of  the  Man  of  Nazareth — and  so  of 
the  saints  of  all  ages.  It  is  the  Christ  in  Augustine, 
the  Christ  in  Bernard,  the  Christ  in  a  Kempis,  the 
Christ  in  Luther,  in  Zinzendorf,  in  Fenelon,  in  Wesley, 
that  gives  the  burning  focus  of  life.  He  preaches 
Christ,  who  preaches  the  reflections  of  Christ  in  the  life 
of  His  Church,  who  interprets  His  thought  and  spirit. 


37^  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

in  their  purifying  and  illuminating  agency,  in  the  beauty 
and  character  of  His  beloved.  So,  also,  the  antichrist, 
the  mystery  of  iniquity,  finds  its  key  in  the  life  of 
Christ.  The  false  is  known  by  the  true,  while  at  the 
same  time,  it  serves  in  part  to  the  better  definition  of 
the  true.  The  Pharaohs,  the  Herods,  the  Pilates,  the 
Iscariots,  the  Neros  of  history,  the  abnormal  develop- 
ments of  character,  are  to  be  measured  and  judged  in 
the  light  which  falls  on  them  from  the  Holy  One.  The 
revelation  of  holiness  is  the  revelation  of  sin.  Christ 
is  the  ultimate  test  of  manhood,  the  touchstone  of 
character.  By  Him  every  man  must  stand  or  fall. 
"Behold  this  child  is  set  for  the  falhng  and  rising  up  of 
many  in  Israel,  and  for  a  sign  which  is  spoken  against, 
that  thoughts  out  of  many  hearts  may  be  revealed." 

II.  But,  I  remark,  in  the  next  place,  that  the  preach- 
ing of  Christ  is  an  element  of  universal  significance  in 
the  proclamation  of  Revealed  Truth.  Christ  says  of 
Himself:  "I  am  the  Truth."  Let  us  dwell  for  a  mo- 
ment on  the  value  of  such  a  personalization  of  Divine 
Truth.' 

1.  A  personalized  idea  is,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
far  more  definite  and  palpable  to  men's  apprehensions, 
than  an  abstraction.  Personality  translates  the  idea 
into  form,  materializes  it  into  substance.  The  diction- 
ary of  heroism  is  found  in  the  life  of  a  hero.  You 
learn  the  grammar  of  patriotism  in  the  self-devotion  of 
a  Leonidas,  a  Tell,  a  Washington,  or  a  Lincoln.  Im- 
perialism finds  its  exponent  in  the  Caesar.  The  Papacy 
has  its  living  embodiment  in  a  Hildebrand  or  a  Boni- 
face. Christianity  has  its  own  complete  expression  in 
the  Christ. 

2.  But,  still  more,  in  the  person  the  idea  comes  before 
us  not  in  fixed,  rigid  outline,  but  in  its  living  develop- 
ment.    Here  you  have  not  merely  the  statics  of  truth, 


SERMONS.  379 

but  its  dynamics.  A  true  Christian  theology  is  not  the 
anatomy  of  a  skeleton,  but  the  biology  of  a  Divine 
Life.  Electricity,  slumbering  in  the  cloud,  or  in  the 
earth,  is  one  thing.  Electricity,  riding  upon  the  storm, 
flashing  in  lightning  from  east  to  west,  leaping  in  thun- 
der from  crag  to  crag,  is  quite  another  thing.  So  truth 
in  the  Book,  is,  indeed,  power,  but  truth  in  the  life, 
truth  in  the  miracle,  truth  in  the  Cross,  is  the  power  of 
God.  The  truth  speaking  in  the  Book  is  mighty  to 
save,  because  it  is  the  Truth  which  died  on  the.  Cross. 
3.  Again,  in  its  personal  developments,  the  idea 
presents  itself  in  its  organic  relations  to  other  ideas. 
Here  the  statements  of  Paul  apply:  "  As  the  body  is 
one,  and  hath  many  members,  and  all  the  members  of 
the  body  being  many,  are  one  body,  so  also  is  Christ. 
The  eye  cannot  say  to  the  hand,  I  have  no  need  of 
thee,  or  again,  the  head  to  the  feet,  I  have  no  need  of 
you.     Nay,  much  rather  those  members  of  the  body, 

which  seem  to  be  more  feeble,  are  necessary 

and  our  uncomely  parts  have  more  abundant  comeli- 
ness, whereas  our  comely  parts  have  no  need.  But 
God  tempered  the  body  together."  You  dissect  any 
joint  or  organism  by  itself  on  the  table,  and  you 
have  a  far  less  vivid  idea  of  its  uses  than  you  have 
by  studying  it  in  its  action,  as  part  of  a  larger  organ- 
ism. To  understand  the  working  of  the  brain,  you 
must  understand  the  anatomy  and  functions  of  the 
nervous  system.  So,  conversely,  to  understand  the  nerv- 
ous system,  you  must  understand  the  brain.  Fully  to 
measure  the  brain  and  nervous  system,  you  must  under- 
stand the  action  of  heart,  lungs,  vein,  muscle,  cell, 
tissue,  in  a  word,  of  the  entire  physical  man.  So  in 
personality,  above  all  in  Christ,  you  have  the  living 
organism  of  the  truth,  and  you  have  the  organic  com- 
plements of  each  particular  truth  or  member.      Thus, 


380  LLEWELYN   lOAN   EVANS. 

if  you  were  to  study  the  grace  of  humility  by  itself, 
you  would  be  liable  to  take  a  very  one-sided  view  of  it, 
possibly  (with  the  old  heathen  world)  to  despise  it,  as 
a  belittling  of  manhood.  Its  true  significance  and 
beauty  are  to  be  seen  only  in  the  living  combinations 
of  a  Perfect  Life.  Mark,  for  example,  in  Christ,  the 
Divine  dignity  of  humility.  His  very  meekness  and 
lowliness  attest  His  Kingship.  "Take  my  yoke  upon 
you,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart." 

4.  Once  more,  the  impersonated  idea  gathers  about 
itself  a  more  vital  human  interest.  Men  are  generally 
much  more  interested  in  personal  than  in  impersonal 
entities.  Even  the  lovers  of  abstract  thought  find  their 
interest  in  it  enlivened  and  enriched  through  more  in- 
timate acquaintaince  with  the  personal  channels  through 
which  it  has  flowed.  The  thoughts  of  Philo  or  Spinoza, 
have  a  fresher  interest  even  for  the  philosopher,  when 
read  in  the  lives  of  the  men.  In  like  manner  this 
Divine  philosophy  which  we  call  Christianity,  arrests  the 
attention,  and  commands  the  interest  of  men,  as  no 
other  philosophy  has  ever  done,  because  of  the  trans- 
cendent grandeur  of  the  personality  through  which  it 
speaks  to  us.  Let  us  for  a  moment  contemplate  this 
Personality  as  th.e  embodiment  of  Divine  Truth.  "I 
AM  THE  Truth."     What  does  this  declaration  mean? 

I.  It  signifies  first  of  all,  and  speaking  comprehen- 
sively, that  Christianity  as  a  system,  means  nothing 
apart  from  Christ.  There  are  those  who  v/ould  resolve 
Christianity  into  a  creed,  an  abstraction,  a  code  of  laws, 
a  sermon  or  a  parable,  a  poetic  idyl,  a  social  revolu- 
tion. Not  so ;  Christianity  means  Christ ;  and  Christ, 
not  as  a  preacher,  not  as  an  ethical  idealist,  not  as  a 
stern  legislator,  not  as  a  reformer,  but  Christ  in  all 
that  He  is — Christ  as  the  vSon  of  God,  as  the  Son  of 
Man,  as  the  Savior   of  the  world  :  Christ  as  Prophet, 


SERMONS.  381 

Priest,  King  of  humanity.  In  Christianity,  Christ  is 
everything.  There  is  no  dogma  apart  from  Christ. 
Its  ethics  have  their  conscience  only  in  the  cross.  Its 
laws  have  their  "  categorical  imperative,"  only  in  the 
authority  of  the  Master.  Its  social  creed  has  its  inspi- 
ration only  in  the  spirit  of  the  Carpenter  of  Nazareth. 
Its  uplifting  forces  have  their  nerve  center  in  His  sub- 
lime passion.  Its  philosophy  has  its  Divine  Light  in 
the  Divine  Heart,  from  which  it  fiov/s.  One  more 
creed  in  the  world,  one  more  school,  one  more  system 
^  of  morals,  one  more  philosophy,  one  more  Utopia — 
what  were  that?  There  is  enough  ;  more  than  enough 
of  all  that.  The  world  is  crov/ded  with  precepts  and 
rules.  The  air  is  thick  with  speculations  and  bubbles. 
The  day  is  full  of  dogmas,  and  the  night  is  full  of 
dreams.  What  we  need  is  substance,  reality,  the  liv- 
ing tongue  of  fire,  the  living  heart  of  flame,  the  mag- 
netic quickening  touch,  the  pulsating  throb,  the  saving 
grasp  of  an  Almighty  Hand ;  the  Creative  Power,  the 
Resurrection  Power,  which  comes  from  personal  con- 
tact Avith  a  personal  God. 

Christianity  means  that,  or  it  is  nothing. 
2.  And  what  is  true  of  Christianity  as  a  whole,  is 
true  of  each  particular  truth  in  Christianity.  Every  gos- 
pel truth  means  Christ.  Apart  from  Christ,  it  is  barren, 
impossible,  or  false.  The  subject  is  too  vast  for  more 
than  one  or  two  brief  hints.  Let  us  take  by  way  of 
illustration,  the  three  great  truths,  which  Kant  has  de- 
clared to  be  the  cardinal  principles  of  religion :  God, 
freedom,  and  immortality. 

(i.)  Take  the  truth  respecting  God.  How  vivid  and 
practical  does  this  become  in  Jesus  Christ !  I  have  al- 
ready adverted  briefly  to  the  significance  of  Christ's 
personality  as  a  factor  in  His  revelation  of  God.  The 
man  who  has  known  the  personal  Christ,   has  seen,    in 


382  LLEWELYN    10 AN    EVANS. 

His  truest  Shekinah,  the  personal  God.  "He  that 
hath  seen  nie,  hath  seen  the  Father."  "No  man  hath 
seen  God,  the  only  begotten  son  [or  God  only  begotten] 
which  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  He  hath  declared 
Him  " — exegetcd  God,  drawn  Flim  out,  and  set  Him 
forth,  so  that  He  may  be  personally  apprehended  by 
men.  But  take  another  aspect  of  the  Divine  Being. 
Take  the  Infinity  of  God.  In  the  abstract  conception 
of  God,  this  Infinity  is  a  metaphysical  notion  which  is 
beset  with  many  speculative  and  logical  embarrassments. 
So  serious  are  these  embarrassments,  that  the  late  la- 
mented Dr.  Henry  Smith,  of  this  Seminary,  in  his 
recently  published  critique  of  Spinoza's  Ethics,  has  felt 
called  upon  to  repudiate  the  philosophical  infinity,  as 
an  unscriptural  notion,  in  its  appUcation  to  God.  From 
this  position,  indeed,  I  must  withhold  my  own  assent. 

I  believe,  however,  that  our  earnest  and  brilliant  Pro- 
fessor was  quite  correct  in  teaching  that  the  metaphys- 
ical side  of  this  Divine  Quality  is  not  the  one  which  the 
Scriptures  make  prominent.  The  Divine  Infinity,  as  we 
see  it  in  Christ,  is  certainly  not  the  transcendental  infi- 
nity of  the  logician,  but  the  moral,  the  spiritual  infinity 
of  Supreme  Perfection — a  positive,  mark  it,  rather  than 
a  negative  reahty.  Here,  for  example,  we  see  Truth 
as  an  infinite  quantity.  Truth  as  the  field  of  Omniscience, 
Truth  as  the  product  of  the  Divine  Thought,  Truth  as 
a  Divine  Infinite  Force  in  the  moral  history  of  the  uni- 
verse. In  Christ  we  see  the  Infinite  of  Holiness,  the  Infi- 
nite of  Righteousness  ;  that  is,  we  see  these  qualities  as 
omnipotent  energies,  put  forth  for  the  suppression  of 
evil,  and  for  the  restoration  of  spiritual  order  and  peace. 
In  Christ  we  see  the  Infinite  of  Patience,  the  Infinite  of 
Pity,  the  Infinite  of  Love ;  these  qualities,  that  is,  as 
moral  omnipotencies,  with  an  energy  mightier  than 
light  or  gravity,  with    a  potency  more  subtle  than  the 


SERMONS.  383 

sweet  influences  of  the  Pleiades,  winning  a  lost  world 
to  its  fealty  to  the  eternal  throne.  For  such  a  stupen- 
dous manifestation  of  God,  no  thought,  no  word,  of 
smaller  compass  can  suffice  than  this — Infinite — Infinite 
in  every  possible  sense  of  the  v/ord.  And  this  Infinite 
means  Christ. 

(2.)  Take  Kant's  second  cardinal  principle  of  religion. 
Freedom.  Man  is  free.  He  stands  outside  the  chain  of 
causality  and  necessity.  This  must  be  so,  we  believe, 
if  religion,  nay  if  morality,  is  to  exist  at  all.  But  as  an 
abstract  dogma,  how  difficult  to  establish  this  freedom. 
How  liable  we  are  in  discoursing  about  it  to  become 
lost  in  the  wandering  mazes  of  "fixed  fate,  free  will, 
fore-knowledge  absolute."      "  He  must  be  free  !" 

Aye,  but  nevertheless  he  is  in  bondage.  But,  you 
say,  "he  is  conscious  of  responsibihty,  and  of  guilt  for 
wrong-doing."  Very  true;  the  argument  is  in  itself 
conclusive.  But  how  difficult,  nay,  how  impossible,  to 
make  this  sense  of  guilt  practically  effective.  Man, 
alas  !  is  a  sinner,  and  one  most  disastrous  curse  of  sin  is 
that  it  deadens  the  sense  of  guilt ;  and  one  effect  of  this 
insensibility,  is  to  weaken  the  force  of  the  argument  for 
responsibility  and  freedom.  But  what  do  we  find  in 
Christ  ? 

First  of  all,  in  His  own  personality,  representing  as 
He  does  the  most  perfect  humanity,  we  see  a  practical 
illustration  of  the  Law  of  Liberty,  which  puts  its  reality 
beyond  question.  Next  we  find,  that  in  the  presence  of 
Christ,  and  under  the  active  influence  of  His  personality 
and  love,  sin  becomes  a  reality,  human  responsibilty 
becomes  a  reality,  and  therewith  human  freedom  be- 
comes a  reality.  Finally  in  active  spiritual  union  with 
Him,  through  the  participation  of  the  Divine  Nature, 
which  comes  through  the  incorporation  of  our  souls 
with  Him,  man  is  lifted  above  all  the  limitations   of  his 


3^4  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

sinful  estate  into  a  royal  realm  of  liberty  and  power, 
wherein  he  walks,  wearing  on  his  brow  the  crown  of  a 
son  and  heir  of  God. 

"The  law  of  the  spirit  of  life  in    Christ  Jesus   made 
me  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  of  death." 

(3)  Take  the  third  Kantian  principle — Immortality. 
There  is,  I  doubt  not,  a  distinct  witness  to  our  immor- 
tality, impressed  upon  the  very  constitution  of  our 
being.  There  is  an  ineradicable  instinct,  which  tells 
us  that  as  our  personal  identity  is  independent  of  the 
mutations  of  the  body  in  life,  so  it  is  independent  of 
its  final  dissolution  in  death.  A  man  can  not,  without 
doing  violence  to  the  facts  of  his  being,  bring  himself 
to  believe  that  death  ends  all.  And  yet,  it  must  be 
confessed,  there  are  difficulties  connected  with  our  be- 
lief in  immortality,  which  make  it  exceedingly  desirable 
that  some  more  sure  witness  should  be  found  to  it. 
We  need  that  this  vague  instinct  should  be  exalted 
into  a  clear  and  well  defined  hope ;  that  this  hope 
should  be  strengthened  and  intensified  into  a  steadfast 
and  vigorous  belief;  that  this  behef  should  be  organ- 
ized into  a  positive,  practical  force,  in  shaping  and  up- 
lifting the  life  of  the  present.  This  service  only  Christ 
can  render  us.  He  is  Himself  a  living  witness  of  im- 
mortality—  "I  am  the  Living  One,  and  I  was  dead, 
and  behold  I  am  ahve  for  evermore."  He  demon- 
strates the  congruities  of  manhood  and  immortality.  In 
Him  we  see  a  type  and  grade  of  life  of  which  immor- 
tality is  the  worthy  sequel  and  crown.  ''  He  brought 
life  and  immortality  into  light" — first  Hfe,  then  immor- 
tahty.  Men  have  lost  their  faith  in  immortality,  be- 
cause they  have  lost  their  faith  in  life.  Christ  reveals 
to  us  a  life  which  is  worth  living  now,  and  which,  be- 
cause it  is  worth  living  now,  is  v.'orth  living  forever. 
Note  how,  that  here  again,  Christ  brings  to  us  a  con- 


SERMONS.  385 

ceptlon  of  immortality  of  far  higher  vakie  and  potency 
than  any  merely  metaphysical  notion.  What  do  we 
learn  from  metaphysics  ?  Mark  the  word  Immortality, 
the  negation  of  death,  the  negation  that  is  of  a  nega- 
tion. But  what  does  Christ  give?  Eternal  Life. 
"Because  I  live,  ye  shall  live" — a  Christ-life  which  is 
the  necessitating  cause  of  t'he  human  life ;  a  human  life 
which  is  the  responsive  parallel  of  the  Christ-life.  The 
life  which  Christ  gives  and  inspires,  is  a  life  which  re- 
quires immortality,  as  its  scope  and  outcome.  Thus 
we  see,  that  in  Christ  alone,  do  we  have  the  certitude 
and  fulness  of  religious  truth.  I  do  not  say  that 
Kant  preaches  his  religious  trinity  altogether  in  vain, 
but  something  more  is  needed  to  silence  the  world's 
doubts,  and  to  satisfy  the  needs  of  humanity.  Whether 
we  seek  to  know  God,  to  realize  freedom,  to  be  as- 
sured of  immortahty,  Christ  is  the  Truth.  In  Him 
we  have  not  a  truth,  not  some  truth,  not  certain 
truths,  not  truth  and  truths  about  God — but  in  Him 
we  have  The  Truth,  the  Reahty.  He  is  God,  He  is 
Freedom,  He  is  Eternal  Life. 

When  we  advance  to  the  truths  which  are  more 
specifically  characteristic  of  the  Christian  System,  we 
see  still  more  clearly  hov/  the  substance  of  all  these 
Divine  Realities,  inheres  in  Christ.  Let  me  give  by 
way  of  illustration,  one  brief  passage  from  Paul.  Mark 
in  the  reading  of  it,  how  every  fact,  every  reality  on 
which  the  Apostle  touches  is  identified  with  Christ. 
"  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  who  hath  blessed  us  with  every  spiritual  bless- 
ing in  the  heavenly  places  in  Christ,  even  as  He  chose 
us  IN  Him,  before  the  foundation  of  the  world,  that  we 
should  be  holy  and  without  blemish  before  Him  in 
love  ;  having  fore-ordained  us  unto  adoption  as  sons 
through  Jesus  Christ  unto  Himself,  according  to  the 


386  LLEWELYN  lOAN    EVANS. 

good  pleasure  of  His  will,  to  the  praise  of  .the  glory  of 
His  grace,  which  He  freely  bestowed  on  us  in  the 
Beloved,  in  whom  we  have  our  redemption  through 
HIS  BLOOD,  the  forgiveness  of  our  trespasses,  accord- 
ing to  the  riches  of  His  grace,  which  He  made  to 
abound  toward  us  in  all  wisdom  and  prudence  ;  having 
made  known  unto  us  the  mystery  of  His  will,  accord- 
ing to  His  good  pleasure,  which  He  purposed  in  him, 
unto  a  dispensation  of  the  fulness  of  the  times,  to  sum 
up  all  things  in  Christ,  the  things  in  the  heavens,  and 
the  things  upon  the  earth,  in  Him,  I  say,  in  whom  also 
we  were  made  a  heritage,  having  been  fore-ordained 
according  to  the  purpose  of  Him  who  worketh  all 
things  after  the  counsel  of  His  will,  to  the  end  that  we 
should  be  unto  the  praise  of  His  glory ;  we  who  had 
before  hoped  in  Christ,  in  whom  ye  also  having  heard 
the  word  of  truth,  the  gospel  of  your  salvation,  in 
whom  having  also  believed,  ye  were  sealed  with  the 
Holy  Spirit  of  promise,  which  is  an  earnest  of  our  in- 
heritance, unto  the  redemption  of  God's  own  posses- 
sion, unto  the  praise  of  His  glory."  How  thoroughly 
en-CJiristcd  is  the  whole  chain  of  redemptive  acts  and 
processes  which  here  stretches  out  before  us.  Christ 
is  the  Alpha  of  the  series,  and  the  Omega  of  the  series, 
and  every  link  lays  hold  on  Him.  And  so,  through- 
out the  Epistle,  at  every  step  and  turn,  fifty  times 
or  more:  "In  Christ,"  "In  Him,"  "In  Whom," 
"through,"  "because  of,"  "with,"  "for,"  "unto," 
"into"  Christ.  If  now  we  were  to  analyze  each  of 
these  specifications  in  its  own  connection,  we  should 
find  boundless  vistas  and  horizons  opening  before  us. 
Look  at  the  central  statement  of  the  passage  just  read ; 
the  general  purpose  of  God  is  in  Christ.  The  regnant 
idea  of  the  Divine  Plan  as  it  runs  on  with  increasing 
volumes  through  the  ages,   is  Christ.      The    controling 


SERMONS.  387 

law  of  the  movement  of  the  world  is  the  thought,  the 
life,  the  will,  the  movement,  which  we  see  imperson- 
ated in  Christ.  He  is  the  archetype  of  the  universe. 
In  Him  all  things  were  created.  In  Him  all  things 
subsist,  cohere.  All  the  forces  of  cohesion,  interadap- 
tation,  co-operation,  and  correlation,  have  their  center 
in  Him.  In  Him  all  things  culminate.  What  Paul 
calls  the  anakephalaiosis,  the  summation,  the  unifica- 
tion, the  final  expression  of  Being  in  absolute  harmony 
and  perfect  beauty,  is  to  be  realized  in  Him:  "To 
sum  up  all  things  in  Christ."  As  Whittier  calls  Him 
the  flower  of  man  and  God,  so  we  may  call  Him  the 
grand  consummate  flov/er  of  the  universe. 

So  again,  of  the  Particular  Purposes  of  God.  Be- 
lievers are  chosen,  fore-ordained,  adopted,  constituted 
God's  personal  property — all  in  Christ.  Those  myste- 
rious redemptive  processes,  which  our  theologies  refer 
to  the  Divine  Sovereignty,  were  all  "in  Christ." 
What  does  this  thought  imply?  They  are  not  to  be 
regarded  as  arbitrary  processes,  partial,  exclusive,  cold, 
hard,  but  in  them  all  the  attributes  of  God  act  in 
joyous  and  loving  harmony.  Nay,  more,  all  these  at- 
tributes thus  act,  as  we  see  them  impersonated  in 
Christ — the  same  unerring  insight  as  in  Christ,  the  same 
comprehensive  wisdom,  the  same  impartial  righteous- 
ness, the  same  discriminative  purity,  the  same  unspeak- 
able gentleness,  the  same  transcendent  perfection.  The 
fore-ordaining  love  of  eternity  is  the  redemptive  love 
of  time.  The  heart  which  shaped  the  counsels  of  the 
God-head,  is  the  heart  which  bled  on  Calvary.  Elec-^ 
tion,  fore-ordination,  justification,  adoption,  remission, 
re-unification — all  are  integral  acts  of  the  one  great  re- 
demptive process,  throbbing  from  everlasting  to  ever- 
lasting, with  one  eternal,  universal  purpose.  In  elec^ 
tion,  itself,  there  is  the  same  largeness  of  benevolence, 


388  LLEWELYN    lOAN    EVANS. 

the  same  tender  yearning  of  pity,  the  same  tearful  an- 
guish in  respect  to  the  lost,  that  we  see  in  the  whole 
redemptive  work  of  Jesus ;  the  same  that  thrills  the 
soul  on  Olivet,  in  Gethsemane,  on  Calvary.  For  all  is 
IN  Christ,  and  we  are  not  to  interpret  Christ  by  the  Di- 
vine Decrees,  but  to  interpret  the  Divine  Decrees  by 
Christ. 

We  are  only  on  the  threshold  of  our  theme,  but  we 
can  not  particularized  any  further  in  this  direction. 
Nor  can  we  stop  to  consider  at  all,  the  third  division 
of  our  theme :  Preaching  Christ  as  the  Life. 

The  many  practical  applications  of  our  theme  we 
must  also  pass  by.  Let  me  simply,  in  conclusion, 
urge  you,  my  brethren,  to  keep  this  subject  distinctly 
and  constantly  before  your  minds.  Let  it  shape  your 
thoughts  and  studies,  your  work  and  life,  in  the 
Seminary. 

As  preaching  Christ  is  to  be  the  business  of  your 
ministerial  life,  so  let  learning  Christ  be  the  business 
of  your  Seminary  life.  Let  every  lesson  be  learned  at 
His  feet.  Let  every  deed  of  service  be  performed 
under  His  eye.  Let  every  heart-throb  beat  with  your 
bosom  close  to  His.  Seek  Him  in  every  study.  Seek 
Him  in  every  duty.  Seek  Him  in  every  truth  you 
learn,  in  every  fact  you  master,  in  every  ability  you 
acquire.  Seek  Him  in  every  struggle  with  self,  with 
sin,  with  the  world.  Seek  Him  in  every  experience  of 
sorrow  or  joy,  of  success  or  failure.  Make  Him  "the 
light  of  all  your  day,  the  master  light  of  all  your  see- 
ing." Let  every  thought  be  Christ.  Let  every  prayer 
be  Christ.  Let  every  purpose  be  Christ.  Let  every 
sermon  be  Christ.  Let  every  action  be  Christ.  And 
may  it  be  yours,  each  one  of  you,  to  say,  now,  here- 
after, and  forever:  for  me  to  live  is  Christ.  And  to 
Him  be  the  glory,  world  without  end.     Amen. 

11787TQ,  442  J 

05-16-02  32180      MS      W 


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